,* 


M. 


LIBRARY 

PPxINCETOK,  N.  J. 

BR  75  S3  1839  c.  1 
Scougal,  Henry,  1650-1678. 
The  works  of  the  Rev.  H. 
Scougal  . . . 


THE   WORKS 


REV.  HENRY  SCOUGALj 


CONSISTING  Of 


The  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul 
of  Man. 

The  superior  excellency  of 
the  Religious. 

The  indispensable  duty  of 
Loving  our  Enemies. 

The  necessity  and  advantage 
of  Early  Afflictions. 

That  there  are  but  a  Small 
Number  Saved. 


The  duty  and  pleasure  of 
Praise  and  Thanksgiving. 

On  the  Nativity  of  our  Sa- 
viour. 

On  the  Passion  of  our  Sa* 
viour. 

A  Preparation  for  the  Holy 
Sacrament. 

The  importance  and  difficul- 
ty of  the  Ministerial  Function 


tOGETHER  WITH 

HIS  FUNEUAL  SERMON  BY  THE  REV.  DR.  GAIRDEN  ;  AND  AM 
ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  LIFE,  AND  WRITINGS. 


NEW    YORK: 
R.  CARTER,  58  CANAL  STREET. 


1839. 


NOTICE  FOR  THE  AMERICAN  ED  1  ON 

Among  those  who  have  been  ripened  eprly  fbf 
■usefulness,  and  after  being  eminently  useful,  have- 
been  early  removed  to  the  '  rest  that  remaineth  for 
the  people  of  God,'  few  have  been  more  celebrat- 
ed for  a  lovely,  unobtrusive  piety  than  Scougal. 
Bishop  Burjiei,  with  a  name  high  in  public  esteem, 
and  engagements  numerous  and  important  in  pub- 
lic life,  did  not  deem  it  unworthy  of  his  station  and 
character  to  become  a  warm  eulogist  of  the  young 
author,  and  of  that  work  of  his,  Avhich  was  pub- 
lished in  his  lifetime.  This,  his  main  work,  and 
which  has  gained  him  most  reputation,  '  The  life 
of  God  in  the  soul  of  man,'  has  been  the  delight  of 
the  pious  for  a  century  and  a  half.  It  cannot  be 
necessary  to  repeat  the  praises  bestowed  on  it — for 
its  simplicity,  fervor,  method  of  arrangement,  and 
exhibition  of  the  genuine  amiableness  of  religion. 
That  its  publication  is  seasonable  at  the  present 
time,  in  order  to  direct  the  attention  of  its  readers 
from  subjects  of  doubtful  disputation  to  the  diligent 
keeping  of  the  heaH,  no  self-observer  can  question. 
It  has,  indeed,  been  reprinted  often — but,  so  far  as 
the  writer  of  this  brief  notice  is  informed,  never 
accompanied  in  America  with  the  Sermons  of  the 
author.  These,  and  the  discourse  delivered  on  his 
death,  with  a  preface  by  a  former  editor,  can  hardly 
fail  to  render  the  present  edition  acceotable  to  the 
friends  of  true  piety  in  America. 


PREFACE. 


Mr.  Henry  Scougal,  tlie  worthy  autlior  of  the  follow- 
ing book,  was  born  about  the  end  of  June,  in  tlie  year  1650. 

His  father,  Mr.  Patrick  Scougal,  was  sometime  minister 
at  Salton,  and  afterwards  Bishop  of  Aberdeen;  in  wliich  See 
he  sat  above  twenty  years  from  the  Restoration.  He  was 
married  to  Margaret  Wemyss,  daughter  to  a  gentleman  ia 
Fife,  by  whom  he  had  three  sons  and  two  daughters.  John 
Scougal,  the  eldest  son,  became  Commissai-y  of  Aberdeen. 
Our  author  was  the  second.  The  youngest  son,  James,  up- 
on his  eldest  brother's  death,  succeeded  him  in  the  commis- 
sariat; which  post  he  sold  to  Mr.  Robert  Paterson,  father  to 
the  late  Commissary  of  Aberdeen.  He  then  went  to  Edin- 
burgli;  where  he  was  made  one  of  the  senators  of  the  College 
of  Justice,  by  the  title  of  Lord  Whiteliill.  Catharine  Scou- 
gal, tlie  elder  daughter,  married  Alexander  Scrogie,  Bishop 
of  Argj^-le;  and  Jane,  the  younger,  became  spouse  to  Mr. 
Patrick  Sibbald,  one  of  the  ministers  of  Aberdeen. 

But  to  return  to  om*  author.  From  his  childhood,  he 
made  uncommon  progi-ess  in  divine,  as  well  as  human  learn- 
ing. At  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  went  to  the  University; 
where  he  finished  his  courses  in  four  years'  time:  and  scarce 
had  he  ceased  to  be  a  pupil,  when  he  became  a  Professor. 
Having  adorned  this  character  four  years,  the  more  imme- 
diate service  of  God  in  his  church,  required  him  to  enter  in- 
to holy  orders;  and  he  was  soon  after  settled  at  Auchterless, 
a  small  village  about  twenty  miles  from  Aberdeen.  Here 
he  had  preactied  the  gospel  but  the  space  of  one  year,  when 
he  was  called  to  Aberdeen,  and  promoted  to  the  Professor- 
ship of  Divinity,  in  King's  College  there,  though  yet  no 
more  than  four  and  twenty.  This  important  function  he 
discharged  with  the  highest  honour,  till  about  his  twenty- 


iv  PREFACE. 

sevenrth  year,  tliat  he  fell  into  a  consumption,  which  wasted 
him,  by  slow  degrees,  and,  at  last,  put  an  end  to  his  valua- 
ble life,  on  the  13th  of  June,  1678,  before  he  had  completed 
the  twenty -eighth  year  of  his  age.  He  was  buried  in  King's 
College  church.  Old  Aberdeen,  and  the  following  inscription 
was  put  upon  hb  tombstone:— 

MEMORI^     SACRUM 

HENRICUS    SCOUGAL; 

JIETERENDI  IN  CHRISTO  PATRIS  PATRICII  EPISCOPI 

ABERDONENSIS  FILIUS: 

PHILOSOPHIJE  IN  HAC  ACADEMIA  REGIA, 

PER     QUADRIENNIUM,     TOTIDEMC^UE     ANNI8 

IBIDEM  THEOLOGIiE   PROFESSOR: 

¥CCLESIiE  IN  AUCHTERLESSj  UNO  ANNO    INTERSTITE, 

PASTOR. 

MULTA  IN  TAM  BREVISSIMO  CURRICULO 

DIDICIT,  PR^STITIT,  DOCUIT, 

CffiLI  AVIDUS,  ET  CCELO  MATURUS, 

0B;IT  ANNO  DOM.  MDCLXXYIII, 

^TATIS  SU^   XXVIII. 

ET   HIC    EXUVIAS    MORTALITATIS    POSUIT. 

For  a  more  particular  account  of  our  author's  hfe  and 
character,  we  refer  the  reader  to  tlie  sermon  preached  at 
his  funeral,  by  Dr.  George  Gairden,  which  was  first  pub- 
lished, from  an  authentic  manuscript,  by  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Cockburn,  sometime  minister  of  St.  Paul's  at  Aberdeen, 
and  which  we  have  here  subjoined  to  Mr.  Scougal's  dis- 
courses. 

Besides  the  works  now  published,  our  author  left  behind 
him  some  occasional  reflections,  and  moral  essays,  which 
Iiad  been  the  exercises  of  liis  retired  moments,  while  but  a 
student  at  the  University;  as,  also,  three  manuscript  tracts 
in  Latin,  viz:  A  short  System  of  Ethics,  or  Moral  Philosophy; 
a  Preservative  against  the  Artifices  of  the  Roman  IMissiona- 
ries;  and  a  Treatise  of  the  Pastoral  Care:  tl^e  last  unfin- 
ished, 


PREFACE.  V 

Tlie  works  of  this  excellent  author  have  too  well  recom- 
mended themselves,  to  need  any  new  encomiums.  It  can, 
however,  be  no  improper  preface  to  this  edition,  (which  we 
hope  will  be  found  a  correct  one,)  to  present  the  reader 
with  tlie  accounts  of  the  following  discourses,  which  the  rev- 
erend and  learned  men  who  formerly  published  them,  have 
prefixed  to  their  respective  editions. 

The  sermons  were  first  collected,  and  made  public,  by 
the  above  Mr.  Cockburn;  who  tells  us  "  he  was  encouraged 
to  it,  by  some  persons  no  less  eminent  for  their  piety  and 
virtue,  than  for  their  birth  and  quality.  I  have  endeavour- 
ed," says  he,  "  to  give  them  as  correct  as  possible;  though 
some  of  the  manuscripts  I  was  obliged  to  make  use  of,  had 
not  been  transcribed  with  that  care  and  exactness  they 
ought.  It  cannot  be  expected,"  continues  he,  "  that  these 
discourses,  which  were  never  designed  by  the  autlior  for 
the  press,  can  appear  with  the  same  advantage  as  the  Trea- 
tise," (meaning  The  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man)  "which, 
at  the  persuasion  of  his  friends,  was  pubUshed  in  his  life- 
time; yet,  as  they  retain  the  same  spirit  and  genius,  and  give 
the  same  clear  and  persuasive  notions  of  reUgion,  it  is  hoped 
they  will  beiavourably  received,  as  well  as  that  they  may 
be  very  profitable  to  the  candid  and  serious  reader." 

But  now,  to  come  to  our  author's  noblest  and  most  per- 
fect work.  The  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  xMan.  This  dis- 
course was  first  published  about  the  year  1677,  in  the  au- 
tlior's  hfe-time,  by  the  Reverend  Dr.  Burnett,  afterwards 
bishop  of  Sarum,  who  introduced  it  into  the  world  with  the 
following  account:  "  It  was  written  by  a  pious  and  learned 
countrj'man  of  mine,  for  the  private  use  of  a  noble  friend  of 
the  author's,  without  the  least  design  of  making  it  more 
public.  Others  seeing  it,  were  much  taken  both  with  the 
excellent  purposes  it  contained,  and  the  great  clearness  and 
pleasantness  of  the  style;  the  natural  method,  and  the  short- 
ness of  it;  and  desired  it  might  be  made  a  more  public  good: 
and  knowing  some  interest  I  had  with  the  authoj ,  it  was  re- 
ferred to  me  whether  it  should  lie  in  a  private  closet,  or  be 
let  go  abroad.  I  was  not  long  in  suspense,  having  read  it 
over;  and  knowing  that  the  author  had  written  out  nothing 
here,  but  what  he  himself  did  well  feel  and  know:  andtliere- 
fore,  it  being  a  transcript  of  those  divine  impressions  that 
are  upon  his  own  heait,  I  hope  the  native  and  unforced  gen- 
uineness of  it,  will  both  delight  and  edify  the  reader." 
1* 


\l  PREFACE. 

The  Reverend  Dr.  Gairden,  in  our  author's  funeral  ser- 
mon, speaks  much  to  the  same  effect.  "  Sme,  whoever 
considers  the  importance  of  the  matter  of  that  book,  the 
clear  representation  of  the  life  and  spirit  of  true  religion, 
and  its  graces,  the  great  excellency  and  advantages  of  it, 
the  proposal  of  the  most  effectual  means  for  attaining  to  it 
by  the  grace  of  God,  the  piety  and  seasonableness  of  the 
devotions,  together  with  tlie  natural  and  affectionate  elo- 
quence of  the  style,  cannot  but  be  sensible  of  its  great  use- 
fulness, to  inspire  us  with  the  spirit  of  true  religion;  to  en- 
lighten our  minds  with  a  right  sense  and  knowledge  of  it; 
to  warm  our  hearts  with  suitable  affections  and  breatliings 
after  it,  and  to  direct  our  hves  to  the  practice  of  it." 

To  the  same  purpose,  let  us  hear  the  before  mentioned 
Mr.  Cockburn.  "  The  clear  style,  and  easy  method  of  our 
author,  the  just  and  amiable  representation  he  gives  of  reli- 
gion, in  this  little  treatise,  have  made  it  deservedly  valued 
and  esteemed  by  all  judicious  persons:  and  it  has  become 
a  happy  means  of  giving  right  notions  of  religion  to  many, 
making  them  in  love  with  it,  and  putting  them  upon  the 
practice  of  what  they  saw  was  infinitely  desirable  in  itself, 
and,  with  some  pains  and  industry,  attainable  by  them." 

The  Reverend  Dr.  Wishart,  Principal  of  the  College  of 
Edinburgh,  published,  some  years  ago,  a  small  edition  of 
this  incomparable  Treatise,  with  a  recommendatory  preface, 
equally  pious,  candid,  and  judicious;  an  extract  of  which 
will,  therefore,  very  properly  conclude  our  preface. 

"  Since  I  had  the  happiness  to  become  acquainted  with 
this  book,  I  have  heartily  blessed  God  for  the  benefit  I  have 
received  to  my  own  soul,  by  the  perusal  of  it;  and  have  earn- 
estly wished  it  had  a  place  in  every  family;  was  carefully 
perused  by  every  one  who  can  read;  and  that  the  senti- 
ments of  pure  and  undefiled  religion  it  contains,  were  im- 
pressed upon  every  heart, 

"  The  things  which  especially  recommend  the  book  to  my 
heart,  and  which,  I  think,  cannot  fail  to  recommend  it  to  the 
heart  of  every  serious  peruser  of  it,  are:  1.  The  just  notions 
it  contains  of  real  and  vital  religion,  in  opposition  to  the  com- 
mon mistakes  concerning  it,  and  the  view  it  gives  us  of  that 
ingenuous  spirit  which  belongs  to  true  piety;  with  a  just  al- 
lowance, at  the  same  time,  to  the  proper  influence  of  ex- 
ternal motives.  2.  The  excellency  and  force  of  the  motives 
by  which  true  religion  is  here  recommended,  together  with 


PRKFACE.  \ii 

the  energy  and  warmth  with  which  they  are  delivered. 
B.  The  excellent  directions  here  given,  for  attaining  true 
piety  and  goodness.  4.  The  prudence  and  charity  the  wor- 
thy author  discovers,  in  avoiding  matters  of  doubtful  dispu- 
tation, about  which  the  best  and  wisest  men  differ,  while 
he  is  treating  of  matters  of  the  greatest  importance,  about 
which  all  good  and  wise  men  must  agree.  And  oh!  had 
we  more  of  tliat  true  Christian  spirit,  so  beautifully  deline- 
ated, and  so  warmly  recommended  in  this  book,  I  cannot 
but  think,  that  the  fierceness  of  our  contentions  and  ani-  * 
mosities  about  things  of  lesser  moment,  must  considerably 
abate.  In  fine,  that  vein  of  good  sense  and  clear  thought, 
and  of  serious  piety,  which  runs  through  the  whole  of  tins 
performance,  exceedingly  commended  it  to  me. 

"  For  these  reasons,  I  earnestly  recommend  this  book  to 
the  careful  perusal  of  all  with  whom  my  recommendation 
may  be  of  any  weiglit;  particularly  to  the  people  of  those 
congregations  of  which  I  have  had,  or  now  have  the  over- 
sight. 

"  I  would,  in  a  particular  manner,  recommend  it  to  the 
rising  generation;  in  whose  education  I  have  the  honour  to 
have  a  considerable  charge.  And  olil  that  I  could  be  so 
happy  as  to  make  them  sensible,  how  much  it  Avould  con- 
tribute to  the  peace  and  satisfaction  of  their  whole  after-life, 
to  have  their  minds  and  hearts  early  possessed  of  such  just 
notions  of  true  piety  and  goodness,  and  such  a  prevailing 
liking  to  it,  as  this  excellent  book  tends  to  promote;  how 
much,  I  say,  this  would  conduce  to  their  true  enjoyment  in 
a  present  life,  even  though  we  should  set  aside  the  consider- 
ation of  that  eternal  state,  to  Avhich  we  are  all  hastening 
apace,  and  Avhether  the  youngest  of  us  knows  not  how  soon 
he  may  take  his  flight.  The  chief  part,  and  valuable  end, 
of  all  true  knowledge  and  learning,  is,  the  rectifying  and 
improvement  of  the  heart.  I  would,  especially,  recommend 
this  book  to  our  joung  students,  who  have  their  views  to- 
ward the  sacred  function.  I  cannot  but  reckon,  that  the 
most  necessary  part  of  preparation  for  that  important  work, 
is,  to  have  such  a  just  understanding  of  the  great  design  of 
religion  and  Christianity,  and  such  a  test  of  true  pietv  and 
goodness,  as  this  book  tends  to  inspire  us  with.  An  honest 
and  good  heart  is  the  main  thing  necessary  for  preaching 
iMe  word  of  God,  as  well  as  for  hearing  it,  with  profit 


VIU  PREFACE. 

"  In  fine,  I  hope  I  may  take  the  liberty  to  recommend  it 
to  my  younger  brethren  in  the  holy  ministry.  The  careful 
perusal  of  this  httle  book  may,  I  hope,  contribute  to  the 
further  improvement  of  their  notions  of  religion,  and  to  pro- 
mote in  them  that  rational  piety  and  real  goodness,  in  which 
they  ought  to  be  examples  to  tlieir  flocks.  It  may  also  af- 
ford them  excellent  hints  to  be  improved  upon,  according 
to  the  abihties  God  has  given  them  in  their  public  performan- 
ces. There  are  few  paragraphs  in  this  excellent  book,  but 
what  may  be  profitably  enlarged  into  a  sermon.  And  oh! 
my  brethren,  how  may  it  put  us  to  the  blush,  and  what  a  holy 
emulation  should  it  raise  in  us,  to  know,  that  the  wortliy 
autlior  of  this  admirable  book,  composed  it  before  he  was 
twenty-seven  years  of  age!  what  a  spur  to  oiu:  diligence, 
that  he  came  to  the  end  and  reward  of  his  labours  before 
he  was  eight  and  twenty!  " 


CONTENTS. 


THE  LIFE  OP  GOD  IN  THE  SOUL  OP  MAN 

The  occasion  of  this  discourse             -                -  13 

Mistakes  about  religion                 -                -  14 

What  religion  is?                  -                -                -  15 

Its  permanency  and  stability        -                -  15 

Its  freedom  and  unconstrainedness       »  16 

Religion  a  divine  principle            -                -  18 

The  natural  life,  what?                                           -  18 

The  different  tendencies  thereof                    -  19 

The  divine  life,  wherein  it  consists      -                -  21 

Religion  better  understood  by  actions,  than  by  words  24 

Divine  love  exemplified  in  our  Blessed  Saviour  24 

His  diligence  in  doing  God's  will                -  24 

His  patience  in  bearing  it                 -                 -  24 

His  constant  devotion                 -                 -  26 

His  charity  to  men                 -                 -                 -  26 

His  purity                 -                 -                 -  27 

His  humility                 -                ,                -  28 

A  prayer                 -                 -                 -                 -  80 

The  excellency  and  advantage  of  religion        -  30 

The  excellency  of  divine  love             -             -  81 

The  advantages  of  divine  love                 -             -  33 

The  worth  of  the  object  to  be  regarded             -  34 

Love  requires  a  reciprocal  return                 -  35 

Love  requires  the  object  to  be  present                -  35 
The  divine  love  makes  us  partake  of  an  infinite 

happiness                 -                 -                 -  36 
He  that  loveth  God,  finds  sweetness  in  all  his  dis- 
pensations                -                 -                -  37 
The  duties  of  religion  are  delightful  to  him  37 


X  CONTENTS 

The  excellency  of  universal  charity  and  love  38 

The  pleasure  that  attends  it  -  -  39 

The  excelle»cy  of  purity  -  -  40 

The  delight  it  affords  _  -  40 

The  excellency  of  humility  -  -  41 

The  pleasure  and  sweetness  of  a  humble  temper  42 

A  prayer  -  -  -  ^^ 

Despondent  thoughts,  which  may  arise  in  such  as 

are  awakened  to  a  sense  of  religion  -  44 
The  unreasonableness  of  such  fears  -  46 
We  must  use  our  utmost  endeavours,  and  then  re- 
ly on  God's  assistance  -  -  48 
We  must  shun  all  manner  of  sin  -  50 
We  must  learn  what  things  are  sinful  -  51 
We  must  consider  the  evils  of  sin,  and  resist  the 

temptations  to  it  -  -  52 

We  must  constantly  watch  ourselves  -  55 

We  must  often  examine  our  actions  -  56 

We  must  restrain  ourselves  in  many  lawful  things  57 
We  must  strive  to  put  ourselves   out  of  love  with 

the  world                     -                     -             -  57 
We  must  conscientiously  form  the   outward  ac- 
tions of  religion                 _                 -  60 
We  must  endeavour  to  perform  internal  acts  of 

devotion  and  charity,  &c.  -  -  61 

Consideration,  a  great  instrument  of  religion  62 
We  must  consider  the   excellency  of  the   divine 

nature,  to  beget  divine  love  in  us         -r  63 
We  must  often  meditate  on  God's  goodness  and 

love  ^  -  -  -  65 

To  beget  charity,  we  must  remember  that  all  men 

are  nearly  related  unto  God  -  68 

That  they  bear  his  image  -  -  68 

To  beget  purity,  we  must  consider  the  dignity  of 

our  nature  -  -  -  69 

And  meditate,  often,  on  the  joys  of  heaven  70 

Humility   ariseth   from  the   consideration    of  our  70 

failings  -  -  "70 

Thoughts  of  God,  make  us  have  an  humble  sense 

of  ourselves  »  '-     ..         -^  71 


CONTENTS.  XI 

Prayer,  another  instrument  of  religion           -  72 

Mental  prayer,  very  profitable           -             -  72 

Religion   is  advanced  by  the  same  means  with  I 

which  it  began                 -                 -                -  T3 
The  frequent  use  of  the  Holy   Sacrament,  an  ex- 
traordinary means  to  increase  holiness  and 

piety       -                -                -                -  73 

A  prayer                -                -                -  74 


NINE  DISCOURSES. 


I.  The  superior   Excellency  of    the   Religious. 

— On  Prov.  xii.  26.  '  The  righteous  is  more 
excellent  than  his  neighbour.'  -  77 

II.  The  indispensable    Duty  of  loving  our   Ene- 

mies.— On  Luke  vi.  27.  '  But  I  say  unto 
you  which  hear.  Love  your  enemies.'  94 

III.  The   Necessity  and  Advantage  of  early  Af- 

flictions.— On  Lam.  iii.  27,  28.  '  It  is  good 
for  a  man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth: 
he  sitteth  alone,  and  keepeth  silence,  be- 
cause he  hath  borne  it  upon  him.'  116 

IV.  That  there  are  but  a  small  Number  saved. — 

On  Luke  xiii.  23.  '  Then  said  one  unto  him. 
Lord,  are  there  few  ^hat  be  saved  ?  And  he 
said  unto  them,'  &c,  -  -  131 

V.  The  Duty  and  Pleasure  of  Praise  and  Thanks- 

giving.— On  Psalm  cviii.  15.  '  O !  that  men 
would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness,  and 
for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  Children 
of  men.'         -        -  -  -  148 


Ttll  CONTENTS. 

"VT.  On  the  Nativity  of  our  Saviour. — From 
Psalm  ii.  11.  '  Rejoice  with  trembling.* 
Wherein,  of  the  usefulness  of  the  two  pas- 
sions, joy  and  fear,  iu  religion.  -  161 

Vn.  On  the  Passion  of  our  Saviour. — From  Lam. 
i.  12.  '  Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass 
by?  Behold  and  see  if  there  be  any  sorrow 
like  unto  my  sorrow.'  -  -  178 

VIII.  A  Preparation  for  the  Holy  Sacrament. — On 
Joshua  iii.  5.  '  Sanctify  yourselves:  for 
tomorrow  the  Lord  will  do  wonders  among 
you.'        [This  is  imperfect.]  -  192 

IX.  Of   the   Importance   and   Difficulty   of  the 

Ministerial  Function. — On  2  Cor.    ii.    16. 

*  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?'      -       199 

A  Sermon,  preached  at  the  Funeral  of  the  Rev 
Henry  ScouGAL.  By  George  Gair- 
DEN,  D.  D. — On  Phil.  i.  2.  *  For  to  me  to 
live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  b  gain.*        -         223 


THE  lilFE  OF  GOD 

IN  THE 

SOUL    OF    MAIY. 


My  dear  Friend, 
This  designation  doth  give  you  a  title  to  all  the  en- 
deavours whereby  I  can  serve  your  interests;  and  your 
pious  inclinations  do  so  happily  conspire  with  my  duty, 
that  I  shall  not  need  to  step  out  of  my  road  to  gratify  you; 
but  I  may  at  once  perform  an  office  of  friendship,  and  dis- 
charge an  exercise  of  my  function,  since  the  advancing  of 
virtue  and  holiness  (which  I  hope  you  make  your  great- 
est study)  is  the  peculiar  business  of  my  employment. 
This,  therefore,  is  the  most  proper  instance  wherein  I 
can  vent  my  affection,  and  express  my  gratitude  towards 
you ;  and  1  shall  not  any  longer  delay  the  performance 
of  the  promise  I  made  you  to  this  purpose.  For  though 
I  know  you  are  provided  with  better  helps  of  this  na- 
ture than  any  I  can  offer  you ;  nor  are  you  like  to  meet 
with  any  thing  here  which  you  knew  not  before ;  yet  I 
am  hopeful,  that  what  cometh  from  one  whom"  you  are 
pleased  to  honour  with  your  friendship,  and  which  is 
more  particularly  designed  for  your  use,  will  be  kindly 
accepted  by  you;  and  God's  providence  perhaps  may 
so  direct  my  thoughts,  that  something  or  other  may 
prove  useful  to  you.  Nor  shall  I  doubt  your  pardon, 
if,  for  moulding  my  discourse  into  the  better  frame,  I 
lay  a  low  foundation,  beginning  with  the  nature  and 
properties  of  religion,  and  all  along  give  such  way  to 
my  thoughts  in  the  prosecution  of  the  subject,  as  may 
bring  me  to  say  many  things  which  were  not  necessary, 
did  I  only  consider  to  whom  I  am  writing. 


14  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

Mistakes  about  religion. 
I  cannot  speak  of  religion,  but  I  must  lament,  that, 
among  so  many  pretenders  to  it,  so  few  understand 
what  it  means:  some  placing  it  in  the  understanding,  in 
orthodox  notions  and  opinions;  and  all  the  account  they 
can  give  of  their  religion  is,  that  they  are  of  this  or  the 
other  persuasion,  and  have  joined  themselves  to  one  of 
those  many  sects  vvhereinto  Christendom  is  most  un- 
happily divided.  Others  place  it  in  the  outward  man, 
in  a  constant  course  of  external  duties,  and  a  model  of 
performances:  if  they  live  peaceably  with  their  neigh- 
bours, keep  a  temperate  diet,  observe  the  returns  of 
worship,  frequentbig  the  church  and  thek  closet,  and 
sometimes  extend  their  hands  to  the  relief  of  the  poor^ 
they  tbhik  they  have  sufficiently  acquitted  themselveg. 
Others  again  put  all  religion  in  the  affections,  in  raptur- 
ous heats  and  ecstatic  devotion;  and  all  they  aim  at,  is, 
to  pray  with  passion,  and  think  of  heaven  with  pleasure, 
and  to  be  affected  with  those  kind  and  melting  expres- 
sions wherewith  they  court  their  Saviour,  till  they  per- 
suade themselves  that  they  are  mightily  in  love  with 
him;  and  from  thence  assume  a  great  confidence  of  their" 
salvation,  which  they  esteem  the  chief  of  Christian  gra- 
ces. Thus  are  those  things  which  have  any  resemblance 
of  piety,  and  at  the  best  are  but  means  of  obtaming  it, 
or  particular  exercises  of  it,  frequently  mistaken  for  the' 
whole  of  religion;  nay,  sometimes  wickedness  and  vice" 
pretend  to  that  name.  I  speak  not  now  of  those  gross 
impieties  wherewith  the  heathens  were  wont  to  w^or- 
ship  their  gods:  there  are  but  too  many  Christians  who 
would  consecrate  their  vices,  and  hallow  their  corrupt 
affections;  whose  rugged  humour,  and  sullen  pride,  mu.st 
pass  for  Christian  severity;  whose  fierce  wrath,  and  bit- 
ter rage  against  their  enemies,  must  be  called  holy  zeal; 
whose  petulancy  towards  their  superiors,  or  rebellion- 
against  their  governors,  must  have  the  name  of  Chris- 
tian courage  and  resolution. 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  15 

What  religion  is. 
But  certainly  religion  is  quite  another  thing  ;  and  they 
who  are  acquainted  with  it,  will  entertain  far  ditTerent 
thoughts,  and  disdain  all  those  shadows  and  false  imita- 
tions of  it.  They  know  by  experience,  that  true  religion 
is  an  union  of  the  soul  with  God,  a  real  participation  of  the 
divine  nature,  the  verj'  image  of  God  drawn  upon  the  soul ; 
or,  in  the  Apostle's  phrase,  it  is  Christ  formed  ivithin 
us.  Briefly,  I  know  not  how  the  nature  of  religion  can 
be  more  fully  expressed,  than  by  calling  it  a  divine  life. 
And  under  these  terms  I  shall  discourse  of  it ;  showing  first 
how  it  is  called  a  life,  and  then  how  it  is  termed  divine. 

The  permanency  and  stability  of  religion. 
I  choose  to  express  it  by  the  name  of  life ;  first,  be- 
cause of  its  permanency  and  stability.  Religion  is  not 
a  sudden  start,  or  passion  of  the  mind  ;  not  though  it 
should  rise  to  the  height  of  a  rapture  and  seem  to  trans- 
port a  man  to  extraordinary  performances.  There  are 
few  but  have  convictions  of  the  necessity  of  doing  some- 
thing for  the  salvation  of  their  souls,  which  may  push 
them  forward  some  steps  with  a  great  deal  of  seeming 
haste.  But  anon  they  flag  and  give  over:  they  were  in  a 
hot  mood,  but  now  they  are  cooled:  they  did  shoot  forth 
fresh  and  high,  but  are  quickly  withered,  because  they 
had  no  root  in  themselves.  These  sudden  fits  may  be 
compared  to  the  violent  and  convulsive  motions  of  bodies 
newly  beheaded,  caused  by  the  agitations  of  the  animal 
spfrits,  after  the  soul  is  departed  ;  which  however  vio- 
lent and  impetuous,  can  be  of  no  long  continuance  : 
whereas  the  motions  of  holy  souls  are  constant  and  reg- 
ular, proceeding  from  a  permanent  and  lively  principle. 
It  is  true,  this  divine  life  continueth  not  always  in  the 
same  strength  and  vigour,  but  many  times  sutTers  sad 
decays  ;  and  holy  men  find  greater  ditTiculty  in  resisting 
temptations,  and  less  alacrity  in  the  performance  of  their 
duties  :  yet  it  is  not  quite  extinguished,  nor  are  they  aban^ 
doned  to  the  power  of  those  corrupt  affections  which 
gway  and  overrule  the  rest  of  the  world 


16  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

The  freedom  and  unconstrainedness  of  religion. 
Again,  religion  may  be  defined  by  the  name  of  life, 
because  it  is  an  inward,  free,  and  self-moving  princi- 
ple; and  those  who  have  made  progress  in  it,  are  not 
actuated  only  by  external  motives,  driven  merely  by 
threatenings,  nor  bribed  by  promises,  nor  constrained  by 
laws;  but  are  powerfully  inclined  to  that  which  is  good, 
and  delight  in  the  performance  of  it.  The  love  which 
a  pious  man  bears  to  God  and  goodness,  is  not  so  much 
by  virtue  of  a  command  enjoining  him  so  to  do,  as  by  a 
new  nature  instructing  and  prompting  him  to  it;  nor  doth 
he  pay  his  devotions  as  an  unavoidable  tribute,  only  to 
appease  the  divine  justice,  or  quiet  his  clamorous  con- 
science; but  those  religious  exercises  are  the  proper  ema- 
nations of  the  divine  life,  the  natural  employments  of 
the  new-born  soul.  He  prays,  and  gi\^s  thanks,  and  re- 
pents, not  only  because  these  things  are  commanded, 
but  rather  because  he  is  sensible  of  his  wants,  and  of  the 
divine  goodness,  and  of  the  folly  and  misery  of  a  sinful 
life.  His  charity  is  not  forced,  nor  his  alms  extorted 
from  him:  his  love  makes  him  willing  to  give;  and  though 
there  were  no  outward  obligation,  his  heart  would  de- 
vise liberal  things.  Injustice  and  intemperance,  and  all 
other  vices,  are  as  contrary  to  his  temper  and  constitu- 
tion, as  the  basest  actions  are  to  the  most  generous  spir- 
it, and  impudence  and  scurrility  to  those  who  are  natu- 
rally modest:  so  that  I  may  well  say  with  St.  John, 
Whosoever  is  born  of  God,  doth  not  commit  sin;  for 
his  seed  remaineth  in  him,  and  he  cannot  sin,  be- 
cause he  is  born  of  God.  Though  holy  and  religious 
persons  do  much  eye  the  law  of  God,  and  have  a  great 
regard  unto  it;  yet  it  is  not  so  much  the  sanction  of  the 
law,  as  its  reasonableness,  and  purity,  and  goodness, 
which  do  prevail  with  thejii:  they  account  it  excellent 
and  desirable  in  itself,  and  that  in  keeping  of  it  there  is 
great  reward;  and  that  divine  love  wherewith  they  are 
actuated,  makes  them  become  a  law  unto  themselves. 


lie    THE    SOITL    OF    MAN.  17 

Quls  legem  det  amantlbus'? 

Major  est  amor  lex  ipse  sibi. 
Who  shall  prescribe  a  law  to  those  that  lovel 
Love's  a  more  powerful  law  which  doth  them  move. 

In  a  word,  what  our  blessed  Saviour  said  of  himself,  is 
in  some  measure  applicable  to  his  followers,  that  it  is 
their  meat  and  drtnk  to  do  their  Father'' s  will:  and  as 
the  natural  appetite  is  carried  out  toward  food,  though  we 
should  not  reflect  on  the  necessity  of  it  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  our  lives;  so  are  they  carried  with  a  natural  and 
unforced  propension  toward  that  which  is  good  and  com- 
mendable. It  is  true,  external  motives  are  many  times 
of  great  use  to  excite  and  stir  up  this  inward  principle, 
especially  in  its  infancy  and  weakness,  when  it  is  often 
so  languid  that  the  man  himself  can  scarce  discern  it, 
hardly  being  able  to  move  one  step  forward,  but  when 
he  is  pushed  by  his  hopes,  or  his  fears;  by  the  pressure 
of  an  affliction,  or  the  sense  of  a  mercy;  by  the  author- 
ity of  the  law,  or  the  persuasion  of  others.  Now,  if 
such  a  person  be  conscientious  and  imiform  in  his  obedi- 
ence, and  earnestly  groaning  under  the  sense  of  his  dul- 
ness,  and  is  desirous  to  perform  his  duties  with  more 
spirit  and  vigour:  these  are  the  first  motions  of  the  divine 
life,  which,  though  it  be  faint  and  weak,  will  surely  be 
cherished  by  the  influences  of  heaven,  and  grow  unto 
greater  maturity.  But  he  who  is  utterly  destitute  of  this 
inward  principle,  and  doth  not  aspire  unto  it,  but  con- 
tents himself  with  those  performances  whereunto  he  is 
prompted  by  education  or  custom,  by  the  fear  of  hell, 
or  carnal  notions  of  heaven,  can  no  more  be  accounted 
a  religious  person,  than  a  puppet  can  be  called  a  man. 
This  forced  and  artificial  religion  is  commonly  heavy 
and  languid,  like  the  motion  of  a  weight  forced  upward* 
it  is  cold  and  spiritless,  like  the  uneasy  compliance  of  a 
wife  married  against  her  will,  who  carries  it  dutifully  to- 
ward the  husband  whom  she  doth  not  love,  out  of  some 
sense  of  virtue  or  honour.  Hence  also  this  religion 
is  scant  and  niggardly,  especially  in  those  duties  which 
do  greatest  violence  to  men's  carnal  inclinations;  and 
those  slavish  spirits  will  be  sure  to  do  no  more  than  \a 
2» 


18  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

absolutely  required:  it  is  a  law  that  compels  them,  and 
they  will  be  loth  to  go  beyond  what  it  stints  them  to; 
nay,  they  will  ever  be  putting  such  glosses  on  it,  as 
may  leave  themselves  the  greatest  liberty;  whereas  the 
spirit  of  true  religion  is  frank  and  liberal,  far  from  such 
peevish  and  narrow  reckoning;  and  he  who  hath  given 
himself  entirely  unto  God,  will  never  tliink  he  doth 
too  much  for  him. 

Religion  a  divine  principle. 
By  this  time  I  hope  it  doth  appear,  that  religion  ig, 
with  a  great  deal  of  reason,  termed  a  life,  or  vital  prin- 
ciple; and  that  it  is  very  necessary  to  distinguish  between 
it,  and  that  obedience  which  is  constrained  and  depends 
on  external  causes.  I  come  next  to  give  an  account 
why  I  defined  it  by  the  name  of  divine  life.  And  so 
it  may  be  called,  not  only  in  regard  to  its  fountain  and 
original,  having  God  for  its  author,  and  being  wrought 
in  the  souls  of  men  by  the  power  of  his  Holy  Spirit;  but 
also  in  regard  of  its  nature,  religion  being  a  resemblance 
of  the  divine  perfections,  the  image  of  the  Almighty 
shining  in  the  soul  of  man:  nay,  it  is  a  real  participation 
of  his  nature;  it  is  a  beam  of  the  eternal  light,  a  drop  of 
that  infinite  ocean  of  goodness;  and  they  who  are  endued 
with  it,  may  be  said  to  have  God  dwelling  in  their 
souls  and  Christ  formed  within  them. 

What  the  natural  life  is. 
Before  I  descend  to  a  more  particular  consideration 
of  that  divine  life  wherein  true  religion  doth  consist,  it 
will  be  fit  to  speak  a  little  of  that  natural  or  animal  life 
which  prevails  in  those  who  are  strangers  to  the  other, 
And  by  this  I  understand  nothing  else,  but  our  inclina- 
tion and  propension  toward  those  things  which  are  pleas^ 
ing  and  acceptable  to  nature;  or  self  love  issuing  forth 
and  spreading  itself  into  as  many  branches  as  men  have 
several  appetites  and  inclinations.  The  root  and  foun- 
dation of  the  animal  life  I  reckon  to  be  sense,  taking  it 
largely,  as  it  is  opposed  unto  faith,  and  importeth  our 
perception  and  sensation  of  things  that  are  either  grate- 


V    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  19 

ful  or  troubltj^ome  to  us.  Now,  these  animal  affections 
considered  in  themselves,  and  as  they  are  implanted  in 
us  by  nature,  are  not  vicious  or  blameable;  nay,  they 
are  instances  of  the  v^'isdom  of  the  creator  furnishing  his 
creatures  with  such  appetites  as  tend  to  the  preservation 
and  welfare  of  their  lives.  These  are  instead  of  a  law 
unto  the  brute  beasts,  whereby  they  are  directed  towards 
the  ends  for  which  they  were  made.  But  man,  being 
made  for  higher  purposes,  and  to  be  guided  by  more  ex- 
cellent laws,  becomes  guilty  and  criminal  when  he  is  so 
far  transported  by  the  inclinations  of  this  lowgr  life,  as  to 
violate  his  duty,  or  neglect  the  higher  and  more  noble 
designs  of  his  creation.  Our  natural  affections  are  not 
wholly  to  be  extirpated  and  destroyed,  but  only  to  be 
moderated  and  overruled  by  a  superior  and  more  excel- 
lent principle.  In  a  word,  tlie  difference  between  a  re- 
ligious and  a  wicked  man  is,  that  in  the  one  divine  life 
bears  sway,  in  the  other  the  animal  life  doth  prevail. 

The  different  tendencies  of  the  natural  life. 
But  it  is  strange  to  observe,  unto  what  different  cour- 
ses this  natural  principle  will  sometimes  carry  those  who 
are  wholly  guided  by  it,  according  to  the  diverse  circimi- 
stances  that  concur  with  it  to  determine  them ;  and  then 
not  considering  this,  doth  frequently  occasion  very  dan- 
gerous mistakes,  making  men  think  well  of  themselves 
by  reason  of  that  seeming  difference  which  is  between 
them  and  others;  whereas  perhaps  their  actions  do  all 
the  while  flow  from  one  and  the  same  original.  If  we 
consider  the  natural  temper  and  constitution  of  men's 
souls,  we  shall  find  some  to  be  airy,  frolicksome,  and 
light,  which  makes  their  behaviour  extravagant  and 
ridiculous;  whereas  others  are  naturally  serious  and  se- 
vere, and  their  whole  carriage  composed  into  such 
gravity  as  gains  them  a  great  deal  of  reverence  and  es- 
teem. Some  are  of  an  humorsome,  rugged,  and  mo- 
rose temper,  and  can  neither  be  pleased  themselves,  nor 
endure  that  others  should  be  so.  But  all  are  not  born 
with  such  sour  and  unhappy  dispositions;  for  some  per- 
fsons  have  a  certain  sweetness  and  benignity  rooted  in 


20  THT5    LIFE    OF    GOD 

their  natures,  and  they  find  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the 
endearments  of  society,  and  the  mutual  complacency 
of  friends,  and  covet  nothing  more  than  to  have  every 
body  obliged  to  them.  And  it  is  well  that  nature  hath 
provided  this  complexional  tenderness  to  supply  the  de- 
fect of  true  charity  in  the  world,  and  to  incline  men  to 
do  something  for  one  another's  welfare.  Again,  in  re- 
gard of  education,  some  have  never  been  taught  to  fol- 
low any  other  rules,  than  those  of  pleasure  or  advantage: 
but  others  are  so  inured  to  observe  the  strictest  rules  of 
decency  and  honour,  and  some  instances  of  virtue,  that 
they  are  hardly  capable  of  doing  any  thing  which  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  look  upon  as  base  and  un- 
worthy. 

In  fine,  it  is  no  small  difference  in  the  deportment 
of  mere  natural  men,  that  doth  arise  from  the  strength 
or  weakness  of  their  wit  or  judgment,  and  from  their 
care  or  negligence  in  using  them.  Intemperance  and 
lust,  injustice  and  oppression,  and  all  those  other  impie- 
ties which  abound  in  the  world,  and  render  it  so  miser- 
able, are  the  issues  of  self-love,  the  effect  of  the  ani- 
mal  life,  when  it  is  neither  overpowered  by  religion, 
nor  governed  by  natural  reason.  But  if  it  once  take 
hold  of  reason,  and  get  judgment  and  wit  to  be  of  its 
party,  it  will  many  times  disdain  the  grosser  sort  of 
vices,  and  spring  up  unto  fair  imitations  of  virtue  and 
goodness.  If  a  man  have  but  so  much  reason  as  to 
consider  the  prejudice  which  intemperance  and  inordi- 
nate lust  do  bring  upon  his  health,  his  fortune,  and  his 
reputation,  self-love  may  suffice  to  restrain  him;  and 
one  may  observe  the  rules  of  moral  justice  in  dealing 
W'ith  others,  as  the  best  way  to  secure  his  own  interest, 
and  maintain  his  credit  in  the  world.  But  this  is  not 
all.  This  natural  principle,  by  the  help  of  reason,  may 
take  a  higher  flight,  and  come  nigher  the  instances  of 
piety  and  religion.  It  may  incline  a  man  to  the  dili- 
gent study  of  divine  truths;  for  why  should  not  these, 
as  well  as  other  speculations,  be  pleasant  and  grateful 
to  curious  and  inquisitive  minds?  It  may  make  men 
zealous  in  maintaining  and  propagating  such  opinions  as 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  21 

they  have  espoused,  and  be  very  desirous  that  others 
should  submit  unto  their  judgment,  and  approve  the 
choice  of  religion  which  they  themselves  have  made.  It 
may  make  them  delight  to  hear  and  compose  excellent 
discourses  about  the  matters  of  religion;  for  eloquence 
is  very  pleasant  whatever  be  the  subject.  Nay,  some 
it  may  dispose  to  no  small  height  of  sensible  devotion. 
The  glorious  things  that  are  spoken  of  heaven,  may 
make  even  a  carnal  heart  in  love  with  it ;  the  metaphors 
and  similitudes  made  use  of  in  scripture,  of  crowns  and 
sceptres,  and  rivers  of  pleasure,  &c.  will  easily  affect  a 
man's  fancy,  and  make  him  wish  to  be  there,  though 
he  neither  understand  nor  desire  those  spiritual  pleasures 
which  are  described  and  shadowed  forth  by  them:  and 
when  such  a  person  comes  to  believe  that  Christ  has 
purchased  those  glorious  things  for  him,  he  may  feel  a 
kind  of  tenderness  and  affection  towards  so  great  a  be- 
nefactor, and  imagine  that  he  is  mightily  enamoured  with 
him,  and  yet  all  the  while  continue  a  stranger  to  the 
holy  temper  and  spirit  of  the  blessed  Jesus.  And  what 
hand  the  natural  constitution  may  have  in  the  rapturous 
devotions  of  some  melancholy  persons,  hath  been  excel- 
lently discovered  of  late  by  several  learned  and  judi- 
cious pens. 

To  conclude:  there  is  nothing  proper  to  make  a  man's 
life  pleasant,,  or  himself  eminent  and  conspicuous  in  the 
world,  but  this  uatural  principle,  assisted  by  wit  and 
reason,  may  prompt  him  to  it.  And  though  I  do  not 
condemn  these  things  in  themselves,  yet  it  concerns  us 
nearly  to  know  and  consider  their  nature,  both  that  we 
may  keep  within  due  bounds,  and  also  that  we  may 
leara  never  to  value  ourselves  on  the  account  of  such 
attainments,  nor  lay  the  stress  of  religion  upon  our  nat- 
ural appetites  or  performances. 

Wherein  the  divine   life  doth  consist. 

It  is  now  time  to  return  to  the  consideration  of  that 

divine  life  whereof  I  was  discoursing  before;  that   life 

which  is  hid  with  Christ  i?i  God,  and  therefore  hath 

no  glorious  show  or  appearance  in  the  worldj  and  to 


22  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

the  natural  man  will  seem  a  mean  and  insipid  notion 
As  the  annnal  life  consisteth  in  that  narrow  and  confin- 
ed love  which  is  terminated  on  a  man's  self,  and  in  his 
propension  towards  those  things  that  are  pleasing  to  na- 
ture; so  the  divine  life  stands  in  an  universal  and  un- 
bounded affection,  and  in  the  mastery  over  our  natural 
inclinations,  that  they  may  never  be  able  to  betray  us 
to  those  things  which  we  know  to  be  blameable.  The 
root  of  the  divine  life  is  faith;  the  chief  branches  are,  love 
to  God,  charity  to  man,  purity  and  humility:  for  (as  an 
excellent  person  hath  well  observed)  however  these 
names  be  common  and  vulgar,  and  make  no  extraordi- 
nary sound;  yet  do  they  carry  such  a  mighty  sense,  that 
the  tongue  of  man  or  angel  can  pronounce  nothing 
more  weighty  or  excellent.  Faith  hath  the  same  place 
in  the  divine  life  which  sense  hath  in  the  natural,  be- 
ing indeed  nothing  else  but  a  kind  of  sense,  or  feeling 
persuasion  of  spiritual  things.  It  extends  itself  unto  all 
divine  truths:  but,  in  our  lapsed  estate,  it  hath  a  pecu- 
liar relation  to  the  declarations  of  God's  mercy  and  re- 
concilableness  to  sinners  through  a  Mediator;  and  there- 
fore, receiving  its  denomination  from  that  principal  ob- 
ject, is  ordinarily  termed  faith  in  Jesus  Christ. 

The  love  of  God  is  a  delightful  and  affectionate  sense 
of  the  divine  perfections,  which  makes  the  soul  resign 
and  sacrifice  itself  wholly  unto  him,  desiring  above  all 
things  to  please  him,  and  delighting  in  nothing  so  much 
as  in  fellowship  and  communion  with  him,  and  being 
ready  to  do  or  suffer  any  thing  for  his  sake,  or  at  his 
pleasure.  Though  this  affection  may  have  its  first  rise 
from  the  favours  and  mercies  of  God  towards  ourselves, 
yet  doth  it  in  its  growth  and  progress  transcend  such  par- 
ticular considerations,  and  ground  itself  on  his  infinite 
goodness  manifested  in  all  the  works  of  creation  and 
providence.  A  soul  thus  possessed  with  divine  love, 
must  needs  be  enlarged  towards  all  mankind  in  a  sincere 
and  unbounded  affection,  because  of  the  relation  they 
have  to  God,  being  his  creatures,  and  having  something 
of  his  image  stamped  upon  them.  And  this  is  that  char- 
ity I  named  as  the  second  branch  of  religion,  and  under 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  23 

which  all  the  parts  of  justice,  all  the  duties  we  owe  to 
our  neighbour,  are  eminently  comprehended:  for  he  who 
doth  truly  love  all  the  world,  will  be  nearly  concerned 
in  the  interest  of  every  one;  and  so  far  from  wronging 
or  injuring  any  person,  that  he  will  resent  any  evil  that 
befalls  others,  as  if  it  happened  to  himself. 

By  purity,  I  understand  a  due  abstractedness  from 
the  body,  and  mastery  over  the  inferior  appetites;  or 
such  a  temper  and  disposition  of  mind,  as  makes  a  man 
despise,  and  abstain  from  all  pleasures  and  delights  of 
sense  or  fancy  which  are  sinful  in  themselves  or  tend  to 
extinguish  or  lessen  our  relish  of  more  divine  and  intel- 
lectual pleasures;  which  doth  also  infer  a  resoluteness  to 
undergo  all  those  hardships  he  may  meet  with  m  the 
performance  of  his  duty.  So  that  not  only  chastity  and 
temperance,  but  also  Christian  courage  and  magnanim- 
ity may  come  under  this  head. 

Huniility  imports  a  deep  sense  of  our  own  weakness, 
with  a  hearty  and  affectionate  acknowledgement  of  our 
owing  all  that  we  are  to  the  divine  bounty ;  which  is  al- 
ways accompanied  with  a  profound  submission  to  the 
will  of  God,  and  great  deadness  towards  the  glory  of  the 
world,  and  applause  of  men. 

These  are  the  highest  perfections  that  either  men  or 
angels  are  capable  of;  the  very  foundation  of  heaven  laid 
in  the  soul.  And  he  who  hath  attained  them,  needs  not 
desire  to  pry  into  the  hidden  rolls  of  God's  deci^ees,  or 
search  the  volumes  of  heaven,  to  know  what  is  deter- 
mined about  his  everla-stuig  condition;  but  he  may  find 
a  copy  of  God's  thoughts  concerning  him  written  in  his 
own  breast.  His  love  to  God  may  give  him  assurance 
of  God's  favour  to  him;  and  those  beginnings  of  happi- 
ness which  he  feels  in  the  conformity  of  the  powers  of 
his  soul  to  the  nature  of  God,  and  compliance  with  his 
will,  are  a  sure  pledge  that  his  felicity  shall  be  perfected, 
and  continued  to  all  eternity.  And  it  is  not  without  rea- 
son that  one  said,  "  I  had  rather  see  the  real  impres- 
sions of  a  God-like  nature  upon  my  own  soul,  than  have 
a  vision  from  heaven,  or  an  angel  sent  to  tell  mc  that 
my  name  was  enrolled  in  the  bookcf  life." 


24  THE    LIFE    OF    COD 

Religion  better  understood  by  actions  than  by 

words. 
When  we  have  said  all  that  we  can,  the  secret  mys- 
teries of  a  new  nature  and  divine  life  can  never  be  suf- 
ficiently expressed;  language  and  words  cannot  reach 
them :  nor  can  they  be  truly  understood  but  by  those  souls 
that  are  enkindled  within,  and  awakened  unto  the  sense 
and  relish  of  spiritual  things.  There  is  a  spirit  in 
man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the  ^hnighty  giveth 
him  understanding.  The  power  and  life  of  religion 
may  be  better  expressed  in  actions  than  in  words;  because 
actions  are  more  lively  things,  and  do  better  represent 
the  inward  principle  whence  they  proceed;  and  therefore 
we  may  take  the  best  measure  of  those  gracious  endow- 
ments from  the  deportment  of  those  in  whom  they  reside; 
especially  as  they  are  perfectly  exemplified  in  the  holy  life 
of  our  blessed  Saviour;  a  main  part  of  whose  business  in 
this  world,  was,  to  teach  by  his  practice  vvhathe  did  re- 
quire of  others,  and  to  make  his  own  conversation  an 
exact  resemblance  of  those  unparalleled  rules  which  he 
prescribed:  so  that  if  ever  true  goodness  was  visible  Xo 
mortal  eyes,  it  was  then  when  his  presence  did  beautify 
and  illustrate  this  lower  world. 

Divine  love  exemplified  in  our  Saviour: — His  dili- 
gence in  doing  God's  will,  and  His  patience  in 
hearing  it. 

That  sincere  and  devout  affection  wherewith  his  hies-- 
sed  soul  did  constantly  burn  towards  his  heavenly  Father, 
did  express  itself  in  an  entire  resignation  to  his  will.- 
It  was  his  very  meat,  to  do  the  will,  and  finish  the 
tvork  of  him  that  sent  him.  This  was  the  exercise 
of  his  childhood,  and  the  constant  employment  of  his 
riper  age.  He  spared  no  travail  or  pains  while  he  was 
about  his  Father's  business,  but  took  such  infinite  content 
and  satisfaction  in  tbe  performance  of  it,  that  when, 
being  faint  and  weary  with  his  journey,  he  rested  him- 
self on  Jacob's  well,  and  entreated  water  of  the  Sajua- 
ri^an  woman;   the  success  of  his  conference  with  her^ 


IN    THE    SOUL  OF    MAK.  25 

and  the  accession  that  was  made  to  the  kingdom  of 
God,  filled  his  mind  with  such  delight,  as  seemed  to  have 
redounded  to  his  very  body,  refreshing  his  spirits,  and 
making  him  forget  the  thirst  whereof  he  complained  be- 
fore, and  refuse  the  meat  which  he  had  sent  his  disciples 
to  buy.  Nor  was  he  less  patient  and  submissive  in  suf- 
fering the  will  of  God,  than  diligent  in  doing  of  it.  He 
endured  the  sharpest  afflictions  and  extremest  miseries 
that  ever  were  inflicted  on  any  mortal,  without  a  re- 
pining thought,  or  discontented  word.  For  though  he 
was  far  from  a  stupid  insensibility,  or  a  fantastic  or  Sto- 
ical obstinacy,  and  had  as  quick  a  sense  of  pain  as  other 
men,  and  the  deepest  apprehension  of  what  he  was  to 
suffer  in  his  soul,  (as  his  bloody  sweat,  and  the  soi^e 
amazement  and  sorroiv  which  he  professed,  do  abun- 
dantly declare) ;  yet  did  he  entirely  submit  to  that  severe 
dispensation  of  providence,  and  willingly  acquiesced 
in  it. 

And  he  prayed  to  God,  that  if  it  were  possible,  (or, 
as  one  of  the  Evangelists  hath  it,  if  he  were  willing,) 
that  cup  might  be  removed;  yet  he  gently  added, 
^Nevertheless,  not  my  7viU,  but  thine  he  done.  Of 
what  strange  importance  are  the  expressions,  John  xii, 
27,  where  he  first  acknowledgeth  the  anguish  of  his 
spirit,  JVow  is  my  soul  troubled;  which  would  seem 
to  produce  a  kind  of  demur,  And  ichat  shall  I  say  7 
and  then  he  goes  on  to  deprecate  his  sufferings.  Fath- 
er, save  me  from  this  hour;  which  he  had  no  sooner 
uttered,  but  he  doth,  as  it  were,  on  second  thoughts, 
recall  it,  in  these  words.  But  for  this  cause  came  I 
into  the  world;  and  concludes.  Father,  glorify  thy 
name.  Now,  we  must  not  look  on  this  as  any  levity, 
or  blameable  weakness  in  the  blessed  Jesus.  He  knew 
all  along  what  he  was  to  suffer,  and  did  most  resolute- 
ly undergo  it.  But  it  shows  us  the  inconceivable  weight 
and  pressure  that  he  was  to  bear;  which,  being  so  afflict- 
ing, and  contrary  to  nature,  he  could  not  think  of  with- 
out terror;  yet,  considering  the  will  of  God,  and  the  glo- 
ry which  was  to  redound  to  him  from  thence,  he  was 
not  only  content  but  desirous  to  sufier  it. 

a 


26  THE    LIFE    or    GOD 

Our  Saviour^s  constant  devotiom 
Another  instance  of  his  I'Ove  to  God,  was,  his  de^ 
light  in  conversing  with  him  by  prayer;  which  made 
him  frequently  retire  from  the  world,  and  with  the 
greatest  devotion  and  pleasnre  spend  w^hole  nights  in 
that  heavenly  exercise,  though  he  had  no  sins  to  confess^ 
and  but  few  secular  interests  to  pray  for;  which,  alas! 
are  almost  the  only  things  that  are  wont  to  drive  us  to 
our  devotions.  JXay,  we  may  say  his  whole  life  was  a 
kind  of  prayer,  a  constant  course  of  communion  with 
God;  if  the  sacrifice  was  not  always  offering,  yet  was 
the  fire  still  kept  alive:  nor  was  ever  the  blessed  Jesus 
surprised  with  that  dulness  or  tepidity  of  spirit  which 
we  must  many  times  wrestle  with,  before  w^e  can  be  fit 
for  the  exercise  of  devotion. 

Our  Saviour'' s  charity  to  men. 

In  the  second  place,  I  should  speak  of  his  love  and 
charity  towards  all  men.  But  he  who  would  express  it, 
must  transcribe  the  history  of  the  gospel,  and  comment 
upon  it:  for  scarce  any  thing  is  recorded  to  have  been 
done  or  spoken  by  him,  which  was  not  designed  for  the 
good  and  advantage  of  some  one  or  other.  All  his  mir- 
aculous w^orks  were  instances  of  his  goodness,  as  well 
as  his  power;  and  they  benefited  those  on  whom  they 
were  wrought,  as  well  as  they  amazed  the  beholders. 
His  charity  was  not  confined  to  his  kindred  or  relations; 
nor  was  all  his  kindness  swallowed  up  in  the  endear- 
ments of  that  peculiar  friendship  which  he  carried  to- 
wards the  beloved  disciple,  but  every  one  was  \\h  friend 
who  obeyed  his  holy  commands,  John  xv.  14;  and 
ivhosoever  did  the  ivill  of  his  Father,  the  same  was 
to  him  as  his  brother,  and  sif>ter,  and  mother. 

Never  was  any  unwelcome  to  him  who  came  with 
an  honest  intention;  nor  did  he  deny  any  request  which 
tended  to  the  good  of  those  that  asked  it.  So  that  what 
was  spoken  of  that  Konian  Emperor,  whom  for  his 
goodness  they  called  the  darling  of  mankind,  was 
really  perfornied  by  him;  that  never  any  departed  from 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  27 

him  with  a  heavy  countenance,  except  that  rich  youth, 
Mark  x.  who  was  sorry  to  hear  that  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  stood  at  so  high  a  rate,  and  that  he  could  not  save 
his  soul  and  his  money  too.  And  certainly  it  troub- 
led our  Saviour,  to  see  that  when  a  price  was  in  his 
hand  to  get  wisdom,  yet  he  had  no  heart  to  it.  The 
ingenuity  that  appeared  in  his  first  address,  had  already 
procured  some  kindness  for  him ;  for  it  is  said,  and  Je- 
sus beholding  him,  loved  him.  But  must  he  for  his 
sake  cut  out  a  new  way  to  heaven,  and  alter  the  nature 
of  things,  which  make  it  impossible  that  a  covetous 
man  should  be  happy? 

And  what  sJiall  1  speak  of  his  meekness,  who  could 
encounter  the  monstrous  ingratitude  and  dissimulation 
of  that  miscreant  who  betrayed  him,  in  no  harsher  terms 
than  these,  Judas,  be  fray  est  thou  the  Son  of  man 
with  a  kiss?  What  farther  evidence  could  we  desire  of 
his  fervent  and  unbounded  charity,  than  that  he  willingly 
laid  down  his  life  even  for  his  most  bitter  enemies;  and, 
mingling  his  prayers  with  his  blood,  besought  the  Father 
that  his  death  might  not  be  laid  to  their  charge,  but 
might  become  the  means  of  eternal  life  to  those  very  per- 
sons who  procured  it? 

Our  Saviour^s  purity. 
The  third  branch  of  the  divine  life  is  purity;  which, 
as  I  said,  consists  in  a  neglect  of  worldly  enjoyments 
and  accommodations,  and  a  resolute  enduring  of  all  such 
troubles  as  we  meet  with  in  the  doing  of  our  duty. 
Now,  surely,  if  ever  any  person  was  wholly  dead  to 
all  the  pleasures  of  the  natural  life,  it  was  the  blessed 
Jesus,  who  seldom  tasted  them  when  they  came  in  his 
way;  but  never  stepped  out  of  his  road  to  seek  them. 
Though  he  allowed  others  the  comforts  of  wedlock,  and 
honoured  marriage  with  his  presence;  yet  he  chose  the 
severity  of  a  virgin  life,  and  never  knew  the  nuptial  bed; 
and  though  at  the  same  time  he  supplied  the  want  of 
wine  v^^ith  a  miracle,  yet  he  would  not  work  one  for  the 
relief  of  his  own  hunger  in  the  wilderness:  so  gracious 
and  divii)e  was  the  temper  of  his  soul,  in  allowing  to  oth- 


28  THE     LIFE    OF     GOD 

ers  such  lawful  gratifications  as  himself  thought  good  to 
abstain  from,  and  supplying  not  only  their  more  extreme 
and  pressing  necessities,  but  also  their  smaller  and  less 
considerable  wants.  We  many  times  hear  of  our  Sa- 
viour's sighs,  and  groans,  and  tears;  but  never  that  he 
laughed,  and  but  once  that  he  rejoiced  in  spirit;  so  that 
through  his  whole  life  he  did  exactly  answer  that  char- 
acter given  of  him  by  the  prophet  of  old,  that  he  was  a 
man  of  so7-rows,  and  acquainted  with  grief.  Nor 
were  the  troubles  and  disaccommodations  of  his  life 
other  than  matters  of  choice.  For  never  did  there  any 
appear  on  the  stage  of  the  world  with  greater  advantage 
to  have  raised  himself  to  the  highest  secular  felicity.  He 
who  could  bring  together  such  a  prodigious  number  of 
fishes  into  his  disciples'  net,  and,  at  another  time,  receive 
that  tribute  from  a  fish  which  he  was  to  pay  to  the  tem- 
ple, might  easily  have  made  himself  the  richest  person 
in  the  world.  Nay,  without  any  money  he  could  have 
maintained  an  army  powerful  enough  to  have  jostled  Ce- 
sar out  of  his  throne;  having  oftener  than  once  fed  several 
thousands  with  a  few  loaves  and  small  fishes.  But,  to 
show  how  small  esteem  he  had  of  all  the  enjoyments  in 
the  world,  he  chose  to  live  in  so  poor  and  mean  a  con- 
dition, that  though  the  foxes  had  holes,  and  the 
birds  of  the  air  had  nests,  yet  he  ivho  was  lord  and 
heir  of  all  things,  had  not  whereon  to  lay  his  head. 
He  did  not  frequent  the  courts  of  princes,  nor  afiect 
the  acquaintance  or  converse  of  great  ones;  but,  being 
reputed  the  son  of  a  carpenter,  he  had  fishermen  and 
such  other  poor  people  for  his  companions,  and  lived  at 
such  a  rate  as  suited  with  the  meanness  of  that  condition. 

Our  Saviour's  humility. 
And  thus  I  am  brought  unawares  to  speak  of  his  hi(- 
jyiility,  the  last  branch  of  the  divine  life;  wherein  he 
was  a  most  eminent  pattern  to  us,  that  we  might  learn 
of  him  to  be  ineek  and  lowly  in  heart.  I  shall  not 
now  speak  of  that  infinite  condescension  of  the  eternal 
Son  of  God,  in  taking  our  nature  upon  him;  but  only 
reflect  on  our  Saviour's  lowly  and  humble  deportment 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  29 

while  he  was  in  the  world.  He  had  none  of  those  sins 
and  imperfections  which  may  justly  humhle  the  best  of 
men;  but  he  was  so  entirely  swallowed  up  whh  a  deep 
sense  of  the  infinite  perfections  of  God,  that  he  appeared 
as  nothing  in  his  own  eyes,  I  mean,  so  far  as  he  was 
a  creature.  lie  considered  those  eminent  perfections 
which  sinned  in  his  blessed  soul,  as  not  his  own,  but  the 
gifts  of  God;  and  therefore  assumed  nothing  to  himself 
for  them,  but  with  the  profoundest  humility  renounced 
all  pretences  to  them.  Hence  did  he  refuse  that  ordi- 
nary compellation  of  g^ood  master,  when  addressed  to 
his  human  nature,  by  one  whom  it  seems  was  ignorant 
of  his  divinity:  Why  callest  thou  me  good?  there  is 
none  good,  but  God  only:  As  if  he  had  said.  The 
goodness  of  any  creature  (and  such  only  thou  takest  me 
to  be)  is  not  worthy  to  be  named  or  taken  notice  of; 
it  is  God  alono  who  is  originally  and  essentially  good. 
He  never  made  use  of  his  miraculous  power  for  vanity 
or  ostentation.  He  would  not  gratify  the  curiosity  of  the 
Jews  with  a  sign  from  heaven,  some  prodigious  appear- 
ance in  the  air:  nor  would  he  follow  the  advice  of  his 
countrymen  and  kindred,  who  would  have  had  all  his 
great  works  performed  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  for  gain- 
ing him  the  greater  fame.  But  when  his  charity  had 
prompted  him  to  the  relief  of  the  miserable,  his  huinility 
made  him  many  times  enjoin  the  concealment  of  the 
miracle;  and  when  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  design  for 
which  he  came  into  the  world,  required  the  publication 
of  them,  he  ascribed  the  honour  of  all  to  his  Father,  tell- 
ing them,  that  of  himself  he  teas  able  to  do  nothing. 
T  cannot  insist  on  all  the  instances  of  humility  in  his 
deportment  towards  men ;  his  withdrawing  himself  when 
they  would  have  made  him  a  king,  his  subjection,  not 
only  to  his  blessed  mother,  but  to  her  husband,  during 
his  younger  years;  and  his  submission  to  all  the  indig- 
nities and  affronts  which  his  rude  and  malicious  enemies 
did  put  upon  him.  The  history  of  his  holy  life,  record- 
ed by  those  who  conversed  with  him,  is  full  of  such 
passages  as  these.  And  indeed  the  serious  and  attentive 
Study  of  it,  is  the  best  way  to  get  right  measures  of  hu 
3* 


30  THE    LIFE     OF     GOD 

mility,  and  all  the  other  parts  of  religion  which  I  have 
been  endeavouring  to  describe. 

But  now,  that  1  may  lessen  your  trouble  of  reading  a 
long  letter,  by  making  some  pauses  in  it,  let  me  here 
subjoin  a  prayer  that  might  be  proper  when  one  wlx) 
had  formerly  entertained  some  false  notions  of  religion, 
begins  to  discover  what  it  is. 

A    PRAYER. 

*  Infinite  and  eternal  IMajesty,  author  and  fountain 
of  being  and  blessedness,  how  little  do  we  poor  sinful 
creatures  know  of  thee,  or  the  way  to  serve  and  please 
thee!  We  talk  of  religion,  and  pretend  unto  it;  but  alas! 
how  few  are  there  that  know  and  consider  what  it  means! 
How  easily  do  we  mistake  the  affections  of  our  nature, 
and  the  issues  of  self-love  for  those  divine  graces  which 
alone  can  render  us  acceptable  in  tb.y  sight!  It  may  justly 
grieve  me,  to  consider,  that  I  should  have  wandered  so 
long,  and  contented  myself  so  often  with  vain  shadows 
and  false  images  of  piety  and  religion:  yet  I  cannot  but 
acknowledge  and  adore  thy  goodness,  who  hast  been 
pleased  in  some  measure  to  open  mine  eyes,  and  let  me 
gee  what  it  is  at  which  I  ought  to  aim.  I  rejoice  to 
consider  what  mighty  improvements  niy  nature  is  capa- 
ble of,  and  v.hat  a  divine  temper  of  spirit  doth  shine  in 
those  whom  thou  art  pleased  to  choose,  and  cansest  to 
approach  unto  thee.  Blessed  be  thine  infinite  mercy, 
who  sentest  thine  own  Son  to  dwell  among  men,  and 
to  instruct  them  by  his  example  as  well  as  his  laws, 
giving  them  a  peifect  pattern  of  what  they  ought  to  be. 
O  that  the  holy  life  of  the  blessed  Jesus  may  be  always 
in  my  thouglits,  and  before  mine  eyes,  till  I  receive  a 
deep  sense  and  impression  of  those  excellent  graces  that 
shined  so  eminently  in  him ;  and  let  me  never  cease  my 
endeavours,  till  that  new  and  divine  nature  prevail  in 
my  soul  and  Christ  be  formed  within  me.' 

The  excellency  and  advantage  of  religion. 
And  now,  my  dear  friend,  having  discovered  the 
nature  of  true  religion,  before  I  proceed  any  further,  it 


TN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN".  81 

will  not  perhaps  be  unfit  to  fix  our  meditations  a  little 
on  tire  excellency  and  advantages  of  it;  that  we  may  be 
excited  to  the  njore  vigorous  and  diligent  prosecution  of 
those  methods  whereby  we  may  attain  so  great  a  feli- 
city. But  alas!  what  words  slmll  we  find  to  express 
that  inward  satisfaction,  those  hidden  pleasures  which  can 
never  be  rightly  understood,  but  by  those  holy  souls  who 
feel  them?  A  stranger  hitcrmeddleth  not  ivith  their 
joy.  Holiness  is  the  right  temper,  the  vigorous  and 
healthful  constitution  of  the  soul.  Its  faculties  had  for- 
merly been  enfeebled  and  disordered,  so  that  they  could 
not  exercise  their  natural  functions;  it  had  wearied  itself 
with  endless  tossings  and  rollings,  and  was  never  able  to 
find  any  rest:  now,  that  distemper  being  removed,  it 
feels  itself  well;  there  is  a  due  harmony  in  its  fiiculties, 
and  a  sprightly  vigour  possesseth  every  part.  The  un- 
derstanding can  discern  what  is  good,  and  the  will  can 
cleave  unto  it:  the  affections  are  not  tied  to  the  mo- 
tions of  sense,  and  the  influence  of  external  objects;  but 
they  are  stirred  by  more  divine  impressions,  are  touched 
by  a  sense  of  invisible  things. 

The  excellency  of  divine  love. 
Let  us  descend,  if  you  please,  into  a  nearer  and  more 
particular  view  of  religion,  in  those  several  branches  of 
it  which  were  Jiamed  before.  Let  us  consider  that  love 
and  affection  wherewith  holy  souls  are  united  to  God, 
that  we  may  see  what  excellency  and  felicity  is  involved 
in  it.  Love  is  that  powerful  and  prevalent  passion,  by 
which  all  the  faculties  and  inclinations  of  the  soul  are 
determined,  and  on  which  both  its  perfection  and  hap- 
piness depend.  The  worth  and  excellency  of  a  soul  is 
to  be  measured  by  the  object  of  its  love.  lie  who  lov- 
eth  mean  and  sordid  things,  doth  thereby  become  base 
and  vile;  but  a  noble  and  well-placed  affection,  doth 
advance  and  improve  the  spirit  into  a  conformity  with 
the  perfections  which  it  loves.  The  images  of  these  do 
frequently  present  themselves  unto  the  mind,  and,  by  a 
secret  force  and  energy,  insinuate  into  the  very  consti- 
tution of  the  soul,  and  mould  and  fashion  it  unto  their 


32  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

own  likeness.  Hence  we  may  see  how  easily  lovers  or 
friends  do  slide  into  the  imitation  of  the  persons  whom 
they  affect,  and  how,  even  before  they  are  aware,  they 
begin  to  resemble  them,  not  only  in  the  more  consider- 
able instances  of  their  deportment,  but  also  in  their  voice 
and  gesture,  and  that  which  we  call  their  mein  and  air. 
And  certainly  we  should  as  well  transcribe  the  virtues 
and  inward  beauties  of  the  soul,  if  they  were  the  object 
and  motive  of  our  love.  But  now,  as  all  the  creatures 
we  converse  with  have  their  mixture  and  alloy,  we  are 
alwavs  in  hazard  to  be  sullied  and  corrupted  by  placing 
our  affections  on  them.  Passion  doth  easily  blind  our 
eyes,  so  that  we  first  approve,  and  then  imitate  the 
things  that  are  blameable  in  them.  The  true  way  to 
improve  and  ennoble  our  souls,  is,  by  fixing  our  love  on 
the  divine  perfections,  that  we  may  have  them  always 
before  us,  and  derive  an  impression  of  them  on  oui-selves, 
and  beholding  unth  open  face,  as  in  a  glass,  the 
glory  of  the  Lord,  ive  may  be  changed  into  the 
same  image,  from  glory  to  glory.  He  who  with  a 
generous  and  holy  iimbition  hath  raised  his  eyes  towards 
that  uncreated  beauty  and  goodness,  and  fLxed  his  affec- 
tion there,  is  quite  of  another  spirit,  of  a  more  excellent 
and  heroic  temper  than  the  rest  of  the  world ;  and  can- 
not but  infinitely  disdain  all  mean  and  unworthy  things; 
will  not  entertain  any  low  or  base  thoughts  which  might 
disparage  his  high  and  noble  pretensions.  Love  is  the 
greatest  and  most  excellent  thing  we  are  masters  of;  and 
therefore  it  is  folly  and  baseness  to  bestow  it  unworthily. 
It  is  indeed  the  only  thing  we  can  call  our  own.  Other 
things  may  be  taken  from  us  by  violence;  but  none  can 
ravish  our  love.  If  any  thing  else  be  counted  ours,  by 
giving  our  love  we  give  all,  so  far  as  we  make  over  our 
hearts  and  w^ills,  by  which  we  possess  our  other  enjoy- 
ments. It  is  not  possible  to  refuse  him  any  thing,  to 
whom  by  love  we  have  given  ourselves.  Nay,  since  it 
is  the  privilege  of  gifts  to  receive  their  value  from  the 
mind  of  the  giver,  and  not  to  be  measured  by  the  event, 
but  by  the  desire;  he  who  loveth  may  in  some  sense  be 
said  not  only  to  bestow  all  that  he  hath,  but  all  things 


IN      THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  33 

else  which  may  make  the  beloved  person  happy,  since 
he  doth  heartily  wish  them,  and  would  readily  give  them, 
if  they  were  in  his  power.  In  which  sense  it  is  that 
one  niakes  bold  to  say,  That  divine  love  doth  in  a 
9nanner  give  God  unto  himself,  hy  the  complacency 
it  takes  in  the  happiness  and  perfection  of  his  na- 
ture. But  though  this  may  seem  too  strained  an  ex- 
pression, certainly  love  is  the  worthiest  present  we  can 
ofter  unto  God;  and  it  is  extremely  debased  when  we  be- 
stow it  another  way. 

When  this  affection  is  misplaced,  it  doth  often  vent 
itself  in  such  expressions  as  point  at  its  genuine  and 
proper  object,  and  insinuate  where  it  ought  to  be  placed. 
The  flattering  and  blasphemous  terms  of  adoration, 
wherein  men  do  sometimes  express  their  passion,  are 
the  language  of  that  affection  which  was  made  and  de- 
signed for  God;  as  he  who  is  accustomed  to  speak  to 
some  great  person,  doth,  perhaps,  unawares,  accost 
another  with  those  titles  he  was  wont  to  give  to  him. 
But  certamly  that  passion  which  accounteth  its  object 
a  Deity,  ought  to  be  bestowed  on  him  who  really  is  so. 
Those  unlimited  submissions,  which  would  debase  the 
soul  if  directed  to  any  other,  will  exalt  and  eimoble  it 
when  placed  here.  Those  chains  and  cords  of  love  are 
infinitely  more  glorious  than  liberty  itself;  this  slavery 
is  more  noble  than  all  the  empires  in  the  world. 

The  advantages  of  divine  love. 
Again,  as  divine  love  doth  advance  and  elevate  the 
soul,  so  it  is  that  alone  which  can  make  it  happy.  The 
highest  and  most  ravishing  pleasures,  the  most  solid  and 
substantial  delights,  that  human  nature  is  capable  of,  are 
those  which  arise  from  the  endearments  of  a  well-placed 
and  successful  affection.  That  which  imbitters  love, 
and  makes  it  ordinarily  a  very  troublesome  and  hurtful 
passion,  is  the  placing  it  on  those  who  have  not  worth 
enough  to  deserve  it,  or  affection  and  gratitude  to  re- 
quire it,  or  whose  absence  may  deprive  us  of  the  plea- 
sure of  their  converse,  or  their  miseries  occasion  our 


34  THE     LIFE    OF     GOD 

trouble.  To  all  these  evils  are  they  exposed,  whose 
chief  and  supreme  affection  is  placed  on  creatures  like 
themselves:  but  the  love  of  God  delivers  us  from  them 
aH. 

The  U'orth  of  the  object. 

First,  I  say,  love  must  needs  be  miserable,^  and  full 
of  trouble  and  disquietude,  when  there  is  not  worth  and 
excellency  enough  in  the  object  to  answer  the  vastness 
of  its  capacity.  So  eager  and  violent  a  passion,  cannot 
but  fret  and  torment  the  spirit,  where  it  find;*  not  where- 
with to  satisfy  its  cravings.  And,  indeed,  so  large  and  un- 
bounded is  its  nature,  that  it  nnist  be  extremely  pinched 
and  straitened,  when  confined  to  any  creature;  nothing 
below^  an  infinite  good  can  afford  it  room  to  stretch  itself, 
and  exert  its  vigour  and  activity.  What  is  a  little  skin- 
deep  beauty,  or  some  small  degrees  of  goodness,  to 
match  or  satisfy  a  passion  which  was  made  for  God, 
designed  to  embrace  an  infinite  good.'  No  wonder 
lovers  do  so  hardly  sufter  any  rival,  and  do  not  desii-e 
that  others  should  approve  their  passion  by  iniitating 
it.  They  know  tlie  scantiness  and  narrowness  of  the 
good  which  they  love,  that  it  cannot  suffice  two,  being 
in  effect  too  little  for  one.  Hence  love,  which  is  strong 
as  death,  occas'ioneth jealousy  which  is  cruel  as  the 
grave;  the  coals  whereof  are  coals  of  fire,  wrliich  hath 
a  most  violent  flame. 

13ut  divine  love  hath  no  mixture  of  this  gall;  when 
once  the  soul  is  fixed  on  that  supreme  and  all-sufficient 
good,  it  finds  so  much  perfection  and  goodness,  as  doth 
not  only  answer  and  satisfy  its  afiectiou,  but  master  and 
overpower  it  too:  it  finds  all  its  love  to  be  too  faiut  and 
languid  for  such  a  noble  object,  and  is  only  sony  that 
it  can  command  no  more.  It  wisheth  for  the  flames  of 
a  seraph,  and  longs  for  the  time  when  it  shall  be  wholly 
melted  and  dissolved  into  love:  and  because  it  can  do  so 
little  itself,  it  desires  the  assistance  of  the  whole  creation, 
that  angels  and  men  would  concur  with  it  in  the  admi- 
i-alion  and  love  of  those  hifinitc  perfections 


IN   THE   SOUL.   OF   MAN.  85 

The  certainty  to  he  beloved  again. 

Again,  love  is  accompanied  with  trouble,  when  it 
misseth  a  suitable  return  of  affection:  love  is  the  most 
valuable  thing  we  can  bestowj  an<i  by  giving  itj  we  do 
in  effect  give  all  that  we  have;  and  therefore  it  needs 
must  be  atilicting  to  find  so  great  a  gift  despised,  that  the 
present  which  one  hath  made  of  his  whole  heart,  cannot 
prevail  to  obtain  any  return.  Perfect  love  is  a  kind  of 
self-dereliction,  a  wandering  out  of  ourselves;  it  is  a  kind 
of  voluntary  death,  wherein  the  lover  dies  to  himself, 
and  all  his  own  interest,  not  thinking  of  them,  nor  car- 
ing for  them  any  more,  and  minding  nothmg  but  how  he 
may  please  and  gratify  the  party  whom  he  loves.  Thus 
he  is  quite  undone  unless  he  meets  with  reciprocal  affec- 
tion; he  neglects  liimself,  and  the  other  hath  no  regard 
to  him;  but  if  he  be  beloved,  he  is  revived,  as  it  were^ 
and  liveth  in  the  soul  and  care  of  the  person  whom  he 
loves;  and  now  he  begins  to  mind  his  own  concern- 
ments, not  so  much  because  they  are  his,  as  because  the 
beloved  is  pleased  to  own  an  interest  in  them.  He  be- 
comes dear  unto  himself,  because  he  is  so  unto  the  other. 

But  why  should  I  enlarge  on  so  known  a  matter? 
Nothing  can  be  more  clear,  than  that  the  happiness  of 
love  depends  on  the  return  it  meets  with.  And  herein 
the  divine  lover  hath  unspeakably  the  advantage,  having 
placed  his  affection  on  him  w'hose  nature  is  love ;  whose 
goodness  is  as  infinite  as  his  being;  whose  mercy  preven- 
ted us  when  we  were  his  enemies,  therefore  cannot 
choose  but  embrace  us  when  we  are  become  his  friends. 
It  is  utterly  impossible  that  God  should  deny  his  love  to 
a  soul  wholly  devoted  to  him,  and  which  desires  nothing 
so  much  as  to  serve  and  please  him.  He  cannot  disdain 
his  own  image,  nor  the  heart  in  which  it  is  engraven. 
Love  is  all  the  tribute  which  we  can  pay  him,  and  it  is 
the  sacrifice  which  he  will  not  despise. 

The  presence  of  the  beloved  person. 
Another  thing  which  disturbs  the  pleasure  of  love,  and 
renders  it  a  miserable  and  unquiet  passion,  is  absence 


56  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

and  separation  from  those  we  love.  It  is  not  withoat 
a  sensible  affliction  that  friends  do  part,  though  for  some 
little  time.  It  is  sad  to  be  deprived  of  that  society 
which  is  so  delightful;  our  life  becomes  tedious,  being 
spent  in  an  impatient  expectation  of  the  happy  hour 
wherein  we  may  meet  again.  But  if  death  hath  made 
the  separation,  as  sometime  or  other  it  must,  this  occa- 
sions a  grief  scarce  to  be  paralleled  by  all  the  niisfor- 
tnnes  of  human  life,  and  wherein  we  pay  dear  enough 
for  the  comforts  of  our  friendship.  But  O  how  happy 
are  those  who  have  placed  their  love  on  him  who  can 
never  be  absent  from  them!  They  need  but  open  their 
eyes,  and  they  shall  every  where  behold  the  traces  of 
his  presence  and  glory,  and  converse  with  him  whom 
their  soul  loveth.  And  this  makes  the  darkest  prison, 
or  the  wildest  desert,  not  only  supportable,  but  delight- 
ful to  them. 

The  divine  love  makes  us  partake  of  an  infinite 
happiness. 

In  fine,  a  lover  is  miserable  if  the  person  whom  ie 
loveth  be  so.  They  who  have  made  an  exchange  of 
hearts  by  love,  get  thereby  an  interest  in  one  another's 
happiness  and  misery :  and  this  makes  love  a  troublesome 
passion  when  placed  on  earth.  The  niOst  fortunate  per- 
son hath  grief  enough  to  mar  the  tranquillity  of  his  friend; 
and  it  is  hard  to  hold  out,  when  we  are  attacked  on  all 
hands,  and  suffer  not  only  in  our  own  person  but  in  anoth- 
er's. But  if  Cod  were  the  object  of  our  love,  we  should 
share  in  an  infinite  happiness,  without  any  mixture  or  pos- 
sibility of  diminution;  we  should  rejoice  to  behold  the 
glory  of  God,  and  receive  comfort  and  pleasure  from  all 
the  praises  wherewith  men  and  angels  do  extol  him. 
It  should  delight  us  beyond  all  expression,  to  consider, 
that  the  beloved  of  our  souls  is  infinitely  happy  in  him-t 
self,  and  that  all  his  enemies  cannot  shake  or  unsettle 
his  throne;  that  our  God  is  in  the  heavens,  and  doth 
whatsoever  he  pleaseth. 

Behdd,  on  what  sure  foundations  his  happiness  is  built, 
whose  soul  is  possessed  with  di-sine  love;  whose  will  i» 


XN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAX.  87 

transformed  into  the  will  of  Cod,  and  whose  greatest  de- 
sire is,  that  his  maker  should  be  pleased.  O  the  peace, 
the  rest,  the  satisfaction  that  attendeth  such  a  temper  of 
mind ! 

He  that  loveth  God  finds  sweetness  in  every 
disjiensation. 
What  an  infinite  pleasure  must  it  needs  he,  thus,  as  it 
were,  to  lose  oxirselves  in  him,  and.,  being  swallowed  up 
in  the  overcoming  sense  of  his  goodness,  to  offer  ourselves 
a  living  sacrifice,  always  ascending  unto  him  in  flames 
of  love!  Never  doth  a  soul  know  what  solid  joy  and 
substantial  pleasure  is,  till,  once  being  weary  of  itself,  it 
renounces  all  property,  gives  itself  up  to  the  author  of 
its  being,  and  feels  itself  become  a  hallowed  and  devoted 
thing;  and  can  say,  from  an  inward  sense  and  feeling. 
Ml/  beloved  is  ?nine,  (I  account  all  his  interest  mine 
own)  and  I  am  his:  I  am  content  to  be  any  thing  for 
him,  and  care  not  for  myself,  but  that  I  may  serve  him. 
A  person  moulded  into  this  temper,  would  find  pleasure 
in  all  the  dispensations  of  providence.  Temporal  enjoy- 
ments would  ha\e  another  relish,  when  he  should  taste 
the  divine  goodness  in  them,  and  consider  them  as  tokens 
of  love  sent  by  his  dearest  Lord  and  master.  And  chas- 
tisements, though  they  be  not  joyous  but  grievous, 
would  hereby  lose  their  sting:  the  rod  as  well  aslhe  staff 
would  comfort  him:  he  would  snatch  a  kiss  from  the 
hand  that  was  sn)iting  him,  and  gather  sweetness  from 
that  severity.  Nay,  he  would  rejoice,  that  though  God 
did  not  the  will  of  such  a  worthless  and  foolish  creature 
as  himself,  yet  he  did  his  own  will,  and  accomplished 
his  own  designs,  which  are  infinitely  more  holy  and 
wise. 

The  duties  of  Religion  are  delightful  to  him. 
The  exercises  of  religion,  which  to  others  are  insipid 
and  tedious,  do  yield  the  highest  pleasure  and  delight  to 
souls  possessed  with  divine  love.  Thev  rejoice  when 
they  are  called  to  go  up  to  the  house  of  the  Lord, 
that  they  may  see  his  povjer  and  his  glory,  as  they 
4l 


38  THE    LIFE    OF    COD 

have  formerly  seen  it  in  his  sanctuary.  They  never 
think  themselves  so  happy  as  when,  having  retired  from 
the  world,  and  gotten  free  from  the  noise  and  hurry  of 
affairs,  and  silenced  all  their  clamorous  passions,  (those 
troublesome  guests  within,)  they  have  placed  themselves 
in  the  presence  of  God,  and  entertain  fellowship  and 
communion  with  him.  They  delight  to  adore  his  per- 
fections, and  recount  his  favours,  and  to  protest  their 
affection  to  him,  and  tell  him  a  thousand  times  that  they 
love  him;  to  lay  out  their  troubles  or  wants  before  him, 
and  disburden  their  hearts  in  his  bosom.  Repentance 
itself  is  a  delightful  exercise,  when  it  floweth  from  the 
principle  of  love:  there  is  a  secret  sweetness  w^hich  ac- 
companieth  those  tears  of  remorse,  those  meltings  and 
relentings  of  a  soul  returning  unto  God,  and  lamenting 
its  former  unkindness. 

The  severities  of  a  holy  life,  and  that  constant  watch 
which  we  are  obliged  to  keep  over  our  hearts  and  ways, 
are  very  troublesome  to  those  who  are  overruled  and 
acted  by  an  external  law,  and  have  no  law  in  their 
minds  inclining  them  to  the  performance  of  their  duty. 
But  where  divine  love  possesseth  the  soul,  it  stands  as 
sentinel  to  keep  out  every  thing  that  may  offend  the  be^ 
loved,  and  doth  disdainfully  repulse  those  temptations 
which  assault  it.  It  complieth  cheerfully,  not  only  with 
explicit  commands,  but  with  the  most  secret  notices  of 
the  beloved's  pleasure;  and  is  ingenious  in  discovering 
what  will  be  most  grateful  and  acceptable  unto  him. 
It  makes  mortification  and  self-denial  change  their  harsh 
and  dreadful  names,  and  become  easy,  sweet  and  de- 
lightful things. 

But  I  find  this  part  of  my  letter  swell  bigger  than  I 
designed:  indeed  who  would  not  be  tempted  to  dwell 
on  so  pleasant  a  theme?  I  shall  endeavour  to  compensate 
it  by  brevity  in  the  other  points. 

The  excellency  of  charity. 
The  next  branch  of  the  divine  life  is  an  universal  charity 
and  love.     The   excellency  of  this  grace  will  be  easily 
acknowledged.  For  what  can  be  more  noble  and  gener- 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN".  39 

ous  than  a  heart  enlarged  to  embrace  the  whole  world, 
whose  wishes  and  designs  are  levelled  at  the  good  and 
welfare  of  the  universe,  which  considereth  every  man's 
interest  as  its  own?  He  who  loveth  his  neighbour  as 
himself  can  never  entertain  any  base  or  injurious  thought, 
or  be  wanting  in  expressions  of  bounty:  he  had  rather 
suffer  a  thousand  wrongs,  than  be  guilty  of  one;  and 
never  accounts  himself  happy,  but  when  some  one  or 
other  hath  been  benefited  by  him.  The  malice  or  in- 
gratitude of  men  is  not  able  to  resist  his  love:  he  over- 
looks their  injuries,  and  pities  their  folly,  and  overcomes 
their  evil  with  good;  and  never  designs  any  other  revenge 
against  his  most  bitter  and  malicious  enemies,  than  to 
put  all  the  obligations  he  can  upon  them,  whether  they 
will  or  not.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  such  a  person  be  re- 
verenced and  admired,  and  accounted  the  darling  of 
mankind?  This  inward  goodness  and  benignity  of  spirit 
reflects  a  certain  sweetness  and  serenity  upon  the  very 
countenance,  and  makes  it  amiable  and  lovely.  It  in- 
spireth  the  soul  with  a  noble  resolution  and  courage,  and 
makes  it  capable  of  enterprising  and  effecting  the  high- 
est things.  Those  heroic  actions  which  we  are  wont 
to  read  with  admiration,  have  for  the  most  part  been 
the  effects  of  the  love  of  one's  country,  or  of  particular 
friendships;  and  certainly  a  more  extensive  and  universal 
affection  must  be  much  more  powerful  and  efficacious. 

The  pleasure  that  attends  charity. 
Again,  as  charity  flows  from  a  noble  and  excellent 
temper,  so  it  is  accompanied  with  the  greatest  satisfac- 
tion and  pleasure.  It  delights  the  soul  to  feel  itself  thus 
enlarged,  and  to  bo  delivered  from  those  disquieting  as 
well  as  deformed  passions,  malice,  hatred,  and  envy; 
and  become  gentle,  sweet,  and  benign.  Had  I  my 
choice  of  all  things  that  might  tend  to  my  present  felic- 
ity, I  would  pitch  upon  this,  to  have  my  heart  pos- 
sessed with  the  greatest  kindness  and  affection  towards 
all  men  in  the  world,  I  am  sure  this  would  make  me 
partake  in  all  the  happiness  of  others;  their  inward  en- 
dowments, and  outward  prosperity:  every  thing  that  did 


40  TKE    LIFE    or    GOD 

benefit  and  udvantage  them,  would  afford  me  comfort 
and  pleasure.  And  though  I  should  frequently  meet 
with  occasions  of  grief  and  compassion,  yet  there  is  a 
sweetness  in  connniseration,  which  makes  it  infinitely 
more  desirable  than  a  stupid  insensibility:  and  the  con- 
sideration of  that  infinite  goodness  and  wisdom  which 
governs  the  world,  might  repress  any  excessive  trouble 
for  particular  calamities  that  happen  in  it:  and  the  hopes 
or  possibility  of  men's  after-happiness,  might  moderate 
their  sorrow  for  their  present  misfortunes.  Certainly, 
next  to  the  love  and  enjoyment  of  God,  that  ardent 
charity  and  affection  wherewith  blessed  souls  do  embrace 
one  another,  is  justly  to  be  reckoned  as  the  greatest  fe- 
licity of  those  regions  above:  and  did  it  universally  pre- 
vail in  the  world,  it  would  anticipate  that  blessedness, 
and  make  us  taste  of  the  joys  of  heaven  upon  earth. 

The  excellency  of  purity.  ' 
That  which  I  named  as  a  third  branch  of  religion,  was 
purity:  and  you  may  remember  I  described  it  to  consist 
in  a  contempt  of  sensual  pleasures,  and  resoluteness  to 
undergo  those  troubles  and  pains  we  may  meet  with  in 
the  performance  of  our  duty.  Now,  the  naming  of  this 
may  suffice  to  recommend  it  as  a  most  noble  and  excel- 
lent quality.  There  is  no  slavery  so  base,  as  that 
whereby  a  man  becomes  a  dmdge  to  his  own  lusts;  nor 
any  victory  so  glorious,  as  that  which  is  obtained  over 
them.  Never  can  that  person  be  capable  of  any  thing 
that  is  noble  and  worthy,  who  is  sunk  in  the  gross  and 
feculent  pleasures  of  sense,  or  bewitched  with  the  light 
and  airy  gratifications  of  fancy.  But  the  leligious  soul 
is  of  a  more  sublime  and  divine  temper;  it  knows  it  was 
made  for  higher  things,  and  scorns  to  step  aside  one 
foot  out  of  the  way  of  holiness,  for  the  obtaining  any 
of  these. 

The  delight  afforded  by  pimty. 
And  this  purity  is  accompanied  with  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure:  whatsoever  defiles  the  soul  disturbs  it  too;  all 
impure  delights  have  a  sting  in  them,  and  leave  smart 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN".  41 

Mnd  trouble  behind  them.  Excess  and  intemperance, 
>tnd  all  inordinate  lusts,  are  so  much  enemies  to  the 
health  of  the  body,  and  the  interests  of  this  present  life, 
that  a  little  consideration  might  oblige  any  rational  man 
to  forbear  them  on  that  very  score:  and  if  the  religious 
person  go  higher,  and  do  not  only  abstain  from  noxious 
pleasures,  but  neglect  those  that  are  innocent,  this  is 
not  to  be  looked  upon  as  any  violent  and  uneasy  re- 
straint, but  as  the  effect  of  better  choice,  that  their 
minds  are  taken  up  in  the  pursuit  of  more  sublime  and  re- 
fined delights,  so  that  they  cannot  be  concerned  in  these. 
Any  person  that  is  engaged  in  a  violent  and  passionate 
affection,  will  easily  forget  his  ordinary  gratifications, 
will  be  little  curious  about  his  diet,  or  his  bodi-ly  ease, 
or  the  divertisements  he  was  wont  to  delight  in.  No 
wonder  then  if  souls  overpowered  with  divine  love,  des- 
pise inferior  pleasures,  and  be  almost  ready  to  grudge 
the  body  its  necessary  attendance  for  the  common  ac- 
commodations of  life,  judging  all  these  impertinent  to 
their  main  happiness,  and  those  higher  enjoyments  they 
are  pursuing.  As  for  the  hardships  they  meet  with, 
they  rejoice  in  them,  as  opportunities  to  exercise  and 
testify  their  affection:  and  since  they  are  able  to  do  so  lit- 
tle for  God,  thoy  are  glad  of  the  honour  to  suffer  for  liim. 

The  excellency  ofhumility. 
The  last  branch  of  religion  is  humility;  and  how- 
ever to  vulgar  and  carnal  eyes  this  may  appear  an  ab- 
ject, base,  and  despicable  quality,  yet  really  the  soul 
of  man  is  not  capable  of  a  higher  and  more  noble  en- 
dowment. It  is  a  silly  ignorance  that  begets  pride: 
but  humility  arises  from  a  nearer  acquaintance  with 
excellent  things,  which  keeps  men  from  doating  on 
trifles,  or  admiring  themselves" because  of  some  pretty 
attainments.  Noble  and  well  educated  souls  have 
no  such  high  opinion  of  riches,  beauty,  strength,  and 
other  such  like  advantages,  as  to  value  themselves 
for  thern,  or  despise  those  that  want  them:  and  as 
for  inward  worth  and  real  goodness,  the  sense  they 
have  of  the  divine  perfections  makes  them  think  very 
4* 


42  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

meanly  of  any  thing  they  have  hitherto  attained,  and 
be  still  endeavouring  to  surmount  themselves,  and 
make  nearer  approaches  to  those  inliuite  excellencies 
which  they  admire. 

I  know  not  what  thoughts  people  may  have  of  hu- 
mility, but  I  see  almost  every  person  pretending  to 
it,  and  shunning  such  expressions  and  actions  as  may 
make  them  be  accounted  arrogant  and  presumptuous; 
so  that  those  who  are  most  desirous  of  praise,  will  be 
loth  to  conmiend  themselves.  What  are  all  those  com- 
pliments and  modes  of  civilitj',  so  frequent  in  our  ordin- 
ary converse,  but  so  many  protestations  of  the  esteem 
of  others,  and  the  low  thoughts  we  have  of  ourselves; 
and  must  not  that  humility  be  a  noble  and  excellent  en- 
dowment, when  the  very  shadows  of  it  are  accounted 
so  necessary  a  part  of  good  breeding? 

The  pleasure  and  sioeetness  of  an  hiimhJe  temper. 
Again,  this  grace,  is  accompanied  with  a  great  deal 
of  happiness  and  tranquillity:  the  proud  and  arrogant 
person  is  a  trouble  to  ail  that  converse  with  him,  but 
most  of  all  unto  himself;  every  thing  is  enough  to  vex 
him;  but  scarce  any  thing  is  sufficient  to  content  and 
please  him.  He  is  ready  to  quarrel  with  every  thing 
that  falls  out,  as  if  he  himself  were  such  a  considerable 
person,  that  God  Almighty  should  do  every  thing  to 
gratify  him,  and  all  the  creatures  of  heaven  and  earth 
should  wait  upon  him,  and  obey  his  will.  The  leaves 
of  high  trees  do  shake  with  every  blast  of  wind:  and 
every  breath,  ever)'  evil  word  will  disquiet  and  torment 
an  arrogant  man:  but  the  humble  person  hath  the  ad- 
vantage when  he  is  despised,  that  none  can  think  more 
meanly  of  him  than  he  doth  of  liimself ;  and  therefore 
he  is  not  troubled  at  the  matter,  but  can  easily  bear 
those  reproaches  which  wound  the  other  to  the  soul. 
And  withal,  as  he  is  less  affected  with  injuries,  so  in- 
deed he  is  less  obnoxious  unto  them:  contention,  ichich 
Cometh  of  pride,  betrays  a  man  into  a  thousand  incon- 
veniences, which  those  of  a  meek  and  lowly  temper 
seldom  meet  with.     True  and  genuine  humility  b^et- 


IS    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  43 

teth  both  a  veuenation  and  love  among  all  wise  and  dis- 
cerning persons;  while  pride  defeateth  its  own  design, 
and  depriveth  a  man  of  that  honour  it  makes  him  pre- 
tend to. 

But  as  the  chief  exercises  of  humility  are  those  which 
relate  unto  Almighty  God,  so  these  are  accompanied 
with  the  greatest  satisfaction  and  sweetness.  It  is  im- 
possible to  e?-:press  the  great  pleasure  and  delight  which 
religious  persons  feel  in  the  lowest  prostration  of  their 
souls  before  God,  when,  having  a  deep  sense  of  the  di- 
vine majesty  and  glory,  they  sink  (if  I  may  so  speak) 
to  the  bottom  of  their  beings,  and  vanish  and  disappear 
in  the  presence  of  God,  by  a  serious  and  affectionate 
acknowledgment  of  their  own  nothingness,  and  the  short- 
ness and  imperfections  of  their  attainments;  when  they 
understand  the  full  sense  and  emphasis  of  the  Psalm- 
ist's exclamation,  Lord,  ivhat  is  inan!  and  can  utter 
it  with  the  same  affection.  Never  did  any  haughty  and 
ambitious  person  receive  the  praises  and  applauses  of 
men  with  so  much  pleasure,  as  the  humble  and  reli- 
gious do  renounce  them:  A^ot  nnto  us,  O  Lord,  not 
unto  lis,  but  unto  thy  name,  give  ^'ory,  Sfc. 

Thus  have  I  spoken  something  of  the  excellencies  and 
advantage  of  religion  in  its  several  branches;  but  should 
be  very  injurious  to  the  subject,  did  I  pretend  to  have 
given  any  perfect  account  of  it.  Let  us  acquaint  our- 
selves with  it,  my  dear  friend;  let  us  acquaint  ourselves 
with  it,  and  experience  will  teach  us  more  than  all  that 
ever  hath  been  spoken  or  written  concerning  it.  But  if 
we  may  suppose  the  soul  to  be  already  awakened  unto 
some  longing  desires  after  so  great  a  blessedness,  it  will 
be  good  to  give  them  vent  and  suff^er  them  to  issue  forth 
in  some  such  aspirations  as  these: 

A  PRAYER. 

'  Good  God!  what  a  mighty  felicity  is  this  to  which 
we  are  called!  How  graciously  hast  thou  joined  our  duty 
and  happiness  together;  and  prescribed  that  for  our  work, 
the  performance  whereof  is  a  great  rev/ard!  And  shall 
?ijcb  silly  worms  be  advanced  to  so  great  a  height?  Wilt 


44  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

thou  allow  us  to  raise  our  eyes  to  thee?  Wilt  thou  admit 
and  accept  our  affection?  Shall  we  receive  the  impression 
of  thy  divine  excellencies,  by  beholding  and  admiring 
them,  and  partake  of  thy  infinite  blessedness  and  glory,  by 
loving  thee,  and  rejoicing  in  them?  O  the  happiness  of 
those  souls  that  have  broken  the  fetters  of  self-love,  and 
disentangled  their  affection  from  every  narrow  and  par- 
ticular good;  whose  understandings  are  enlightened  by 
the  Holy  Spirit,  and  their  wills  enlarged  to  the  extent 
of  thine;  who  love  thee  above  all  things,  and  all  man- 
kind for  thy  sake!  I  am  persuaded,  O  God!  I  am  per- 
suaded, that  I  can  never  be  happy,  till  my  carnal  and 
corrupt  affections  be  mortified,  and  the  pride  and  vanity 
of  my  spirit  be  subdued,  and  till  I  come  seriously  to  de- 
spise the  world,  and  think  nothing  of  myself  But  O 
when  shall  it  once  be!  O  when  wilt  thou  come  unto  me, 
and  satisfy  my  soul  with  thy  likeness,  making  me  holy 
as  thou  art  holy,  even  in  all  manner  of  conversation! 
Hast  thou  given  me  a  prospect  of  so  great  a  felicity, 
and  wilt  thou  not  bring  me  unto  it?  Hast  thou  excited 
these  desires  in  my  soul,  and  wilt  thou  not  also  satisfy 
them?  O  teach  me  to  do  thy  will,  for  thou  art  my  God; 
thy  spirit  is  good,  lead  me  unto  the  land  of  uprightness. 
Quicken  me,  O  Lord,  for  thy  name's  sake,  and  perfect 
that  which  concerneth  me.  Thy  mercy,  O  Lord,  en- 
dureth  for  ever;  forsake  not  the  work  of  thine  own 
hands.' 


The  despondent  thoughts  of  some  newly  aivakened 
to  a  right  sense  of  things. 
I  HAVE  hitherto  considered  wherein  true  religion 
doth  consist,  and  how  desirable  a  thing  it  is.  But  when 
one  sees  how  infinitely  distant  the  common  temper  and 
frame  of  men  are  from  it,  he  may  perhaps  be  ready  to 
despond  and  give  over,  and  think  it  utterly  impossible 
to  be  attained.  He  may  sit  down  in  sadness,  and  be- 
moan hiuieelf,  and  say,  in  the  anguish  and  bitterness  of 
his  spirit,  "  They  are   happy   indeed  whose  semis  are 


IN    THE     SOUL,    OF    MAK.  45 

awakened  unto  the  divine  life,  who  are  thus  renewed  in 
the  spirit  of  their  minds.  But,  alas!  I  am  quite  of 
anotlier  constit/iition,  and  am  not  able  to  eft'ect  so  migh- 
ty a  change.  If  outward  observances  could  have  done 
the  business,  I  might  have  hoped  to  acquit  myself  by 
diligence  and  care:  but  since  nothing  but  a  new  nature 
can  serve  the  turn,  what  am  I  able  to  do  ?  I  could  be- 
stow all  my  goods  in  oblations  to  God,  or  ahns  to  the 
poor;  but  cannot  command  that  love  and  charity,  with- 
out which  this  expense  would  profit  me  nothing.  This 
gift  of  Cod  cannot  be  purchased  with  money.  If  a  man 
should  give  all  tlie  substance  of  his  house  for  love,  it 
would  utterly  be  contemned.  I  could  pine  and  macerate 
my  body,  and  undergo  many  hardships  and  trouble? ;  but 
I  cannot  get  all  my  corruptions  starved,  nor  my  affections 
wholly  weaned  from  earthly  things:  there  are  still  some 
worldly  desires  lurking  in  my  heart;  and  those  vanities 
that  I  have  shut  out  of  the  doors,  are  always  getting  in 
by  the  windows.  I  am  many  times  convinced  of  my 
own  meanness,  of  the  weakness  of  my  body,  and  the 
far  greater  weakness  of  my  soul;  but  this  doth  rather 
beget  indignation  and  discontent,  than  true  humility  in 
my  spirit:  and  though  I  should  come  to  think  meanly  of 
myself,  yet  I  cannot  endure  that  others  should  think  so 
too.  In  a  word,  when  I  reflect  on  my  highest  and  most 
specious  attainments,  I  have  reason  to  suspect,  that  they 
are  all  but  the  effects  of  nature,  the  issues  of  self-love 
acting  under  several  disguises:  and  this  principle  is  so 
powerful  and  so  deeply  rooted  in  me,  that  I  can  never 
hope  to  be  delivered  from  the  dominion  of  it.  I  may 
toss  and  turn  as  a  door  on  the  hinges;  but  can  never  get 
clear  off,  or  be  quite  unhinged  of  self,  which  is  still  the 
centre  of  all  my  motions.  So  that  all  the  advantage  I 
can  draw  from  the  discovery  of  religion,  is  but  to  see 
at  a  huge  distance  that  felicity  which  I  am  not  able  to 
reach;  like  a  man  in  a  shipwreck,  who  discerns  the 
land,  and  envies  the  happiness  of  those  who  are  there, 
but  thinks  it  impossible  for  himself  to  get  ashore  " 


46  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

The  unreasonableness  of  these  fears. 
These,  I  say,  or  such  like  desponding  thouglits,  may 
arise  in  the  minds  of  those  persons  who  begin  to  conceive 
somewhat  more  of  the  nature  and  excellency  of  religion 
than  before.  They  have  spied  the  land,  and  seen  that 
it  is  exceeding  good ;  that  it  floweth  with  milk  and  hon- 
ey; but  they  find  they  have  the  children  of  Anak  to 
grapple  with;  many  poweiful  lusts  and  corruptions  to 
overcome,  and  they  fear  they  shall  never  prevail  against 
them.  But  why  should  we  give  way  to  such  discour- 
aging suggestions?  why  should  we  entertain  such  unrea- 
sonable fears,  which  damp  our  spirits,  and  weaken  our 
hands,  and  augment  the  difficulties  of  our  way?  Let  us 
encourage  ourselves,  my  dear  friend,  let  us  encourage 
ourselves  with  those  mighty  aids  we  are  to  expect  in 
this  spiritual  warfare;  for  greater  is  he  that  is  for  us,  than 
all  that  can  rise  up  against  us:  The  eternal  God  is  our 
refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  everlasting  arms. 
Let  us  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  thepoioer  of  his 
might;  for  he  it  is  that  shall  tread  down  our  ene- 
mies. God  hath  a  tender  regard  unto  the  souls  of  men, 
and  is  infinitely  willing  to  promote  their  welfare.  He 
liath  condescended  to  our  weakness,  and  declared  with 
an  oath,  that  he  hath  no  pleasure  in  our  destruction. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  despite  or  envy  lodged  in  the 
bosom  of  that  ever  blessed  being,  whose  name  and  na- 
ture is  love.  He  created  us  at  first  in  a  happy  condi- 
tion; and  now,  when  we  are  fallen  from  it,  he  hath 
laid  help  upon  one  that  is  mighty  to  save,  hath  com- 
mitted the  care  of  our  souls  to  no  meaner  person  than 
the  eternal  Son  of  his  love.  It  is  he  that  is  the  Captain 
of  our  salvation;  and  what  enemies  can  be  too  strong 
for  us,  when  we  are  fighting  under  his  banner?  Did  not 
the  Son  of  God  come  down  from  the  bosom  of  his  Fa- 
ther, and  pitch  his  tabernacle  amongst  the  sons  of  men, 
that  he  might  recover  and  propagate  the  divine  life,  and 
restore  the  image  of  God  in  their  souls?  All  the  mighty 
works  which  he  performed;  all  the  sad  aftlictions  which 
he  sustained,  had  this  for  their  scope  and  design;  for  this 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN  47 

did  he  labour  and  toil;  for  this  did  he  bleed  and  die: 
Hath  he  wrought  no  deliverance  in  the  earth? 
Shall  he  not  see  the  travail  of  his  soul?  Certainly  it 
is  impossible  that  this  great  contrivance  of  heaven  should 
prove  abortive,  that  such  a  mighty  undertaking  should 
fail  and  miscarry.  It  hath  already  been  effectual  for  the 
salvation  of  many  thousands,  who  were  once  as  far  from 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  as  we  can  suppose  ourselves  to 
be;  and  our  High  Priest  continueth  for  ever,  and  is 
able  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost  that  come  unto 
God  by  him.  He  is  tender  and  compassionate;  he 
knoweth  our  infirmities,  and  had  experience  of  our  temp- 
tations: A  bruised  reed  will  he  not  break,  and  smok- 
ing flax  will  he  not  quench,  till  he  send  forth  judg- 
ment unto  victory.  He  hath  sent  out  his  Holy  Spirit, 
whose  sweet,  but  powerful  breathings  are  still  moving 
up  and  down  in  the  world,  to  quicken  and  revive  the 
souls  of  men,  and  awaken  them  unto  the  sense  and  feel- 
ing of  those  divine  things  for  which  they  were  made; 
and  is  ready  to  assist  such  weak  and  languishing  crea- 
tures as  we  are,  in  our  essays  towards  holiness  and  felic- 
ity; and  when  once  it  hath  taken  hold  of  a  soul,  and 
kindled  in  it  the  smallest  spark  of  divine  love,  it  will  be 
sure  to  preserve  and  cherish,  and  bring  it  forth  into  a 
jfianie,  which  many  waters  shall  not  quench,  neither 
shall  the  floods  be  able  to  drown  it.  Whenever  this 
day  begins  to  dawn,  and  the  day-star  to  arise  in  the 
heart,  it  will  easily  dispel  the  powers  of  darkness,  and 
make  ignorance  and  folly,  and  all  the  corrupt  and  sel- 
fish affections  of  men,  flee  away  as  fast  before  it  as  the 
shades  of  night  when  the  sun  cometh  out  of  his  cham- 
bers: for  the  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light, 
tuhich  shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 
They  shall  go  on  from  strength  to  strength,  till 
every  one  of  them  appear  before  God  in  Zion. 

Why  should  we  think  it  impossible,  that  true  good- 
ness and  universal  love  should  ever  come  to  sway  and 
prevail  in  our  souls?  Is  not  this  their  pri;nitive  state  and 
condition;  their  native  and  genuine  constitution  as  they 
came  first  from  the  hands  of  their  n;aker?  Sin  and  cor- 


48  THE     LIFE     OF     GOD 

ruption  are  but  usurpers;  and  though  they  have  long 
kept  the  possession,  yet /ro7?i  the  beginning  it  was 
not  so.  '1  hat  jiioidiuate  self-love  which  one  would  think 
were  rooted  in  our  very  being,  and  interwoven  with  the 
constitution  of"  our  nature,  is  nevertheless  of  foreign  ex- 
traction, and  had  no  place  at  all  in  the  state  of  integrity. 
We  have  still  so  much  reason  left  as  to  condemn  it. 
Our  understandings  are  easily  convinced,  that  we  ought 
to  be  v»  holly  devoted  to  him  from  whom  we  have  our 
being,  and  to  love  him  infinitely  more  than  ourselves, 
who  is  intinitely  better  than  we;  and  our  wills  would 
readily  comply  with  this,  if  they  were  not  disordered 
and  put  out  of  tune.  And  is  not  he  who  made  our  souls, 
able  to  rectify  and  mend  them  again?  bhall  we  not  be 
able,  by  his  assistance,  to  vanquish  and  expel  those  vio- 
lent intruders,  and  turn  to  flight  the  armies  of  the 
aliens  ? 

IVo  sooner  shall  we  take  up  arms  in  this  holy  war, 
but  we  shall  have  all  the  saints  on  earth,  and  all  the  an- 
gels in  heaven  engaged  on  our  party.  '1  he  holy  church 
throughout  the  world  is  daily  interceding  with  God  for 
the  success  of  all  such  endeavours.  And  doubtless  those 
lieavenly  hosts  above  are  nearly  concerned  in  the  inter- 
ests of  religion,  and  infinitely  desirous  to  see  the  divhie 
life  thriving  and  prevailmg  in  this  hiferior  world;  and 
that  the  wnl  of  God  may  be  done  by  us  on  earth,  as  it 
is  done  by  themselves  in  heaven.  And  may  we  not  then 
encourage  ourselves,  as  the  prophet  did  his  servant,  when 
he  showed  hitn  the  horses  and  chariots  of  fire,  Fear 
not,  for  they  that  be  with  us,  are  more  than  they 
that  be  against  us. 

We  must  do  what  we  can,  and  depend  on  the 
divine  assistance. 

Away  then  with  all  perplexing  fears  and  desponding 
thoughts.  To  undertake  vigorously,  and  rely  confident- 
ly on  the  divine  assistance,  is  inore  than  half  the  con- 
quest. Let  us  arise,  and  be  doing,  and  the  Lord 
will  be  with  us.  It  is  true,  religion  in  the  souls  of 
men  is  the  immediate  work  of  God;  and  all  our  natural 


IN    THE    SOU'L.    OF    MAN.  49 

endeavours  can  neither  produce  it  alone,  nor  merit  those 
supernatural  aids  by  which  it  must  be  wrought:  the  Ho- 
ly Uhost  must  come  upon  us,  and  the  power  of  the 
highest  niust  overshadow  us,  before  that  holy  thing  can 
be  forgotten,  and  Christ  be  formed  in  us.  JBut  yet  w'O 
must  not  expect  that  this  whole  wosk  should  be  done 
without  any  concurring  endeavours  of  our  own:  we  must 
not  lie  loitering  in  the  ditch,  and  wait  till  Omnipotence 
pull  us  from  thence.  iNo,  no:  we  must  bestir  ourselves, 
and  actuate  those  powers  which  we  have  already  re- 
ceived: we  must  put  forth  ourselves  to  our  utmost  ca- 
pacities, and  tl>en  we  may  hope  that  our  labour  shall 
not  he  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  All  the  art  and  industry 
of  man  cannot  form  the  smallest  herb,  or  make  a  stalk 
of  corn  to  grow  in  the  held:  it  is  the  energy  of  nature, 
and  the  influences  of  heaven,  which  produce  this  etiect; 
it  is  ,God  who  causes  the  grass  to  groiv,  and  herb 
for  the  service  of  man:  and  yet  nobody  will  say,  that 
the  labours  of  the  husbandman  are  useless  or  unneces- 
sary. So  likewise  tl>e  human  soul  is  immediately  cre- 
ated by  God;  it  is  he  who  both  form^elh  and  enliveneth  the 
child:  and  yet  he  hath  appointed  the  marriage-bed  as 
the  ordinary  means  for  the  propagation  of  mankind. 
Though  there  must  intervene  a  stroke  of  onmipotence 
to  etiect  this  mighty  change  in  our  souls,  yet  ought  we 
to  do  what  we  can  to  fit  and  pr.e-pare  ourselves.  For 
we  must  break  up  our  fallow  ground,  and  roct  out  the 
weeds,  and  pull  up  the  thorns,  that  so  we  may  be  more 
ready  to  receive  the  seeds  of  grace,  and  the  dew  of 
heaven.  It  is  tnie,  God  hath  been  found  of  some  who 
sought  him  not;  he  hath  cast  himself  in  their  way,  who 
were  quite  out  of  his;  he  hath  laid  hold  upon  them, 
and  stopped  their  course  of  a  suddea:  for  so  was  St.  Paul 
converted  in  his  journey  to  Damascus.  But  certainly 
this  is  not  God's  ordinary  method  of  dealing  with  men. 
Though  he  hath  not  tied  himself  to  means,  yet  he  hath 
tied  us  to  tl>e  use  of  them;  and  we  have  never  more  rea- 
son to  expect  the  divine  assistance,  than  when  we  are 
doing  our  utmost  endeavours.  It  shall  therefore  be  my 
next  work,  to  show  wliat  course  we  ought  to  take  for 
6 


60  THE    LIFE     OF     GOD 

attaining  that  blessed  temper  I  have  hitherto  described. 
But  here,  if,  in  dehvering  my  own  thoughts,  I  shall 
chance  to  differ  from  what  is  or  may  be  said  by  others 
in  this  matter,  I  would  not  be  thought  to  contradict  and 
oppose  them,  more  than  physicians  do,  when  they 
prescribe  several  remedies  for  the  same  disease,  which 
perhaps  are  all  useful  and  good.  Every  one  may  pro- 
pose the  method  he  judges  most  proper  and  convenient; 
but  he  doth  not  thereby  pretend  tliat  the  cure  can  nev- 
er be  etfected,  unless  that  be  exactly  observed.  I  doubt 
it  hath  occasioned  much  unnecessary  disquietude  to 
Fome  lioly  persons,  that  they  have  not  found  such  a  reg- 
ular and  orderly  transaction  ui  their  souls,  as  they  have 
seen  described  in  books:  that  they  have  not  passed 
through  all  those  steps  and  stages  of  conversion,  which 
some  (who  perhaps  have  felt  them  in  themselves)  have 
too  peremptorily  prescribed  unto  others.  God  hath  sev- 
eral ways  of  dealing  with  the  souls  of  men;  and  it  suffi- 
ceth  if  the  work  be  accomplished,  whatever  the  meth- 
ods have  been. 

Again,  though,  in  proposing  directions,  I  must  follow 
that  order  which  the  nature  of  things  shall  lead  to;  yet 
I  do  not  mean  that  the  same  method  should  be  so  punc- 
tually observed  in  the  practice,  as  if  the  latter  rules  were 
never  to  be  heeded,  till  some  considerable  time  have 
been  spent  in  practiising  the  former.  The  directions  I 
intend  are  mutually  conducive  one  to  another;  and  are 
all  to  be  performed  as  occasion  shall  serve,  and  we  find 
ourselves  enabled  to  perform  them. 

JVe  must  shun  all  manner  of  sin. 
But  now,  that  I  may  detain  you  no  longer,  if  we  desire 
to  have  our  souls  moulded  to  this  holy  frame,  to  become 
partakers  of  the  divine  nature,  and  have  Christ  formed 
in  our  hearts,  we  must  seriously  resolve,  and  carefully 
endeavour  to  avoid  and  abandon  all  vicious  and  sinful 
practices.  There  can  be  no  treaty  of  peace,  till  once 
we  lay  down  these  weapons  of  rebellion  wherewith  we 
tight  against  heaven:  nor  can  we  expect  to  have  our  dis- 
tempers cured,  if  we  be  daily  feeding  on  poison.     Every 


^ 


IN    THE    SOUL   OF    MAN.  61 

wilful  sin  gives  a  mortal  wound  to  the  soul,  and  puts  it 
at  a  greater  distance  from  God  and  goodness:  and  we 
can  never  hope  to  have  our  hearts  purified  from  corrupt 
affections,  unless  we  cleanse  our  hands  from  vicious  ac- 
tions. Now,  in  this  case,  we  cannot  excuse  ourselves  by 
the  pretence  of  impossibility;  for  sure  our  outward  man 
i«  some  way  in  our  power;  we  have  some  command  of 
our  feet,  and  hands,  and  tongue,  nay,  and  of  our  thoughts 
and  fancies  too ;  at  least  so  far  as  to  divert  them  from 
impure  and  shiful  objects,  and  to  turn  our  mind  another 
way:  and  we  should  find  this  power  and  authority  much 
strengthened  and  advanced,  if  we  were  careful  to  man- 
age and  exercise  it.  In  the  mean  while,  I  acknowledge 
our  corruptions  are  so  strong,  and  our  temptations  so 
many,  that  it  will  require  a  great  deal  of  stedfastness  and 
resolution,  of  watchfulness  and  care,  to  preserve  our- 
selves, even  in  this  degree   of  innocence    and  purity. 

We  must  know  what  things  are  sinful. 
And,  first,  let  us  inform  ourselves  well,  what  those 
sins  are  from  which  we  ought  to  abstain.  And  here  we 
must  not  take  our  measures  fiom  the  maxims  of  the 
world,  or  the  practices  of  those  whom  in  charity  we  ac- 
count good  men.  Most  people  have  very  light  appre- 
hensions of  these  things,  and  are  not  sensible  of  any 
fauh,  unless  it  be  gross  and  flagitious;  and  scarce  reckon 
any  so  great  as  that  which  they  call  preciseness:  and 
those  who  are  more  serious,  do  many  times  allow  them- 
selves too  great  latitude  and  freedom".  Alas!  how  much 
pride  and  vanity,  and  passion  and  humour;  how  much 
weakness,  folly,  and  sin,  doth  every  day  show  itself  in 
their  converse  and  behaviour.  It  may  be  they  are  hum- 
bled for  it,  and  striving  against  it,  and  are  daily  gaining 
some  ground;  but  then  the  progress  is  so  small,  and  their 
failings  so  many,  that  we  have  need  to  choose  an  exa^cter 
pattern.  Every  one  of  us  must  answer  for  himself,  and 
the  practices  of  others  will  never  wan-ant  and  secure  us. 
It  is  the  highest  folly  to  regulate  our  actions  by  any 
other  standard  than  that  by  which  they  must  be  judged. 


52  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

If  ever  we  would  cleanse  our  loay,  it  must  be  hy  tak' 
ing  heed  thereunto  according  to  the  word  of  God. 
And  that  word  which  is  quick  and  powerful,  and 
sharper  tha7i  any  two-edged  sword,  piercing  even 
to  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  spirit,  and  of 
the  joints  and  tnarrow,  and  is  a  discerner  of  the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart,  will  certainly  dis- 
cover many  things  to  be  sinful  and  heinous,  which  pass 
for  very  Innocent  in  the  eyes  of  the  world:  let  us  there- 
fore imitate  the  Psalmist,  who  saith.  Concerning  the 
works  of  men,  by  the  words  of  thy  lips,  I  have  kept 
myself  from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer.  Let  us 
acquaint  ourselves  with  the  strict  and  holy  laws  of 
our  religion;  let  us  consider  the  discourses  of  our  blessed 
Saviour,  (especially  that  divine  sermon  on  the  mount,) 
and  the  writings  of  his  holy  apostles,  where  an  ingenious 
and  unbiassed  mind  may  clearly  discern  those  limits  and 
bounds  by  which  our  actions  ought  to  be  confined.  And 
then  let  us  never  look  upon  any  sin  as  light  and  incon- 
siderable; but  be  fully  persuaded  that  the  smallest  is  in- 
finitely heinous  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  prejudicial  to 
the  souls  of  men;  and  that,  if  we  had  a  right  sense  of 
things,  we  should  be  as  deeply  affected  with  the  least 
irregularities,  as  now  we  are  with  the  highest  crinjes. 

We  must  resist  the  temptations  of  sin,  hy  consider- 
ing the  evils  they  will  draw  on  us. 
But  now,  amongst  those  things  which  we  discover  to 
be  sinful,  there  will  be  some,  unto  which,  through  the 
disposition  of  our  nature,  or  long  custom,  or  the  endear- 
ments of  pleasure,  we  are  so  much  wedded,  that  it  will 
be  like  cutting  off  the  right  hand,  or  pulling  out  the  right 
eye,  to  abandon  them.  But  nmst  we  therefore  sit  down 
and  wait  till  all  ditficulties  are  over,  and  every  tempta- 
tion be  gone?  This  were  to  imitate  the  fool  in  the  poet, 
who  stood  the  whole  day  at  the  river  side,  till  all  the  wa- 
ters should  run  by.  AVe  must  not  indulge  our  inclina- 
tions, as  we  do  little  children,  till  they  grow  weary  of  the 
thing  they  are  unwilling  to  let  go;  we  must  not  continue 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN,  53 

our  sinful  practices,  in  hopes  that  the  divine  grace  will 
one  day  overpower  our  spirits,  and  make  us  hate  them 
for  their  own  deformity. 

Let  us  suppose  the  worst,  that  we  are  utterly  destitute 
of  any  supernatural  principle,   and  want  that  taste  by 
which  we  should  discern  and  abhor  perverse  things:  yet 
sure  we  are  capable  of  some  considerations  which  may 
be  of  force  to  persuade  us  to  this  reformation  of  our  lives. 
If  the  ijiward  deformity  and  heinous  nature  of  sin  can- 
not aftect  us,  at  least  we  may  be  frighted  by  those  dread- 
ful consequences  that  attend  it:  that  same  selfish  princi- 
ple which  pusheth  us  forward  unto  the  pursuit  of.  sinful 
pleasures,  will  make  us  loth  to  buy  them  at  the  rate  of 
everlasting  misery.     Thus  we  may  encounter  self-love 
with  its  own  weapons,  and  employ  one  natural  inclina- 
tion for  repressing  the  exorbitances  of  another.     Let  us 
therefore  accustom  ourselves  to  consider  seriously,  what 
a  fearful  thing  it  must  needs  be  to  irritate  and  offend  that 
infinite  Being,  on  whom  we  hang  and  depend  every  mo- 
ment; who  needs  but  to  withdraw  his  mercies  to  make 
us  miserable,  or  his  assistance  to  make  us  nothing.     Let 
us  frequently  remember  the  shortness  and  uncertainty  of  . 
our  lives,  and  how  that,  after  we  have  taken  a  few  turns 
more  in  the  world,  and  convei-sed  a  little  longer  amongst 
men,  we  must  all  go  down  into  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 
and  carry  nothing  along  with   us  but  anguish  and  regret 
for  all  our  sinful  enjoyments;  and  then  think  what  hor- 
ror must  needs  seize  the  guilty  soul,  to  find  itself  naked 
and  all  alone  before  the  severe  and   impartial  judge  of 
the  world,  to  render  an  exact  account,  not  only  of  its 
more   important   and   considerable  transactions,  but  of 
every  word  that  the  tongue  hath  uttered,  and  the  swift- 
est and  most  secret   thought  that  ever  passed  through 
the  mind.     Let  us  sometimes  represent  unto  ourselves 
the  terrors  of  that  dreadful  day,  when  the  foundations 
of  the  earth  shall  be  shaken,  and  the  heavens  shall  pass 
avvay  with  a  great  noise,    and  the  elements  shall   melt 
with  fervent  heat,  and  the  present  frame  of  nature  be 
dissolved,   and   our  eyes  shall  see    the    blessed   Josus 
(who  came  once   into   the   world  in  all    humility  to 
5* 


64  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

visit  us,  to  purchase  pardon  for  us,  and  beseech  us  to 
accept  of  it)  now  appearing  in  the  majesty  of  his  glory, 
and  descending  from  heaven  in  flaming  fire,  to  take  ven- 
geance on  those  that  have  despised  his  mercy,  and  per- 
sisted in  rebellion  against  him:  when  all  the  hidden 
things  of  darkness  sliall  be  brought  to  light,  and  the 
counsels  of  the  heart  shall  be  made  manifest:  when 
those  secret  impurities  and  subtle  frauds  whereof  the 
world  did  never  suspect  us,  shall  be  exposed  and  laid 
open  to  public  view,  and  many  thousand  actions  which 
we  never  dreamed  to  be  sinful,  or  else  had  altogether  for- 
gotten, shall  be  charged  home  to  our  consciences,  with 
such  evident  convictions  of  guilt,  that  we  shall  neither  be 
able  to  deny  nor  excuse  them.  Then  shall  the  angels  in 
heaven,  and  all  the  saints  that  ever  lived  on  the  earth, 
approve  that  dreadful  sentence  which  shall  be  passed 
on  wicked  njen:  and  those  who  perhaps  did  love  and 
esteem  them  when  they  lived  in  the  world,  shall  look 
upon  them  with  indignation  and  abhorrence,  and  never 
make  one  request  for  their  deliverance.  Let  us  consid- 
er the  eternal  punishment  of  damned  souls,  which  are 
shadowed  forth  in  scripture  by  metaphors  taken  from 
those  things  that  are  most  terrible  and  grievous  in  the 
world,  and  yet  all  do  not  sulHce  to  convey  unto  our 
minds  any  full  apprehensions  of  them.  When  we  have 
joined  together  the  importance  of  all  these  expressions, 
and  added  unto  them  whatever  our  fancy  can  conceive 
of  misery  and  torment,  v.e  must  still  remember,  that  all 
this  comes  inlinitely  short  of  the  truth  and  reality  of  the 
thing. 

It  is  true,  this  is  a  sad  and  melancholy  subject;  there 
is  anguish  and  horror  in  the  consideration  of  it;  but  sure 
it  must  be  infinitely  more  dreadful  to  endure  it:  and  such 
thoughts  as  these  may  be  very  useful  to  fright  us  from 
the  courses  that  would  lead  us  thither;  how  fond  soever 
we  may  be  of  sinful  pleasures,  the  fear  of  hell  would 
make  us  abstain:  our  most  forward  inclin<itions  will  star- 
tle and  give  back,  when  pressed  with  that  question  in 
the  prophet.  Who  among  us  can  dwell  with  ever- 
lasting  burnings? 


:M 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  55 

To  this  very  purpose  it  is,  that  the  terrors  of  another 
world  are  so  frequently  represented  in  holy  writ,  and 
that  in  such  terms  as  are  most  proper  to  affect  and  in- 
fluence a  carnal  mind:  these  fears  can  never  suffice  to 
make  any  person  tnily  good,  but  certainly  they  may 
restrain  us  from  much  evil,  and  have  often  made  way 
for  more  ingenuous  and  kindly  impressions. 

We  must  keep  a  constant  ivatch  over  ourselves. 
Put  it  will  not  suffice  to  consider  these  things  once  and 
agai'.i,  norto  form  some  resolutions  of  abandoning  our 
sirs,  unless  we  maintain  a  constant  guard,  and  be  conti)iu- 
ally  watching  against  them.  Sometiines  the  mind  is 
awakened  to  see  the  dismal  consequences  of  a  vicious 
life,  and  straight  we  are  resolved  to  reform:  but,  alas!  it 
presently  falleth  asleep,  and  we  lose  that  prospect  which 
we  had  of  things,  and  then  temptations  take  the  advan- 
tage; they  solicit  and  importune  us  continually,  and  so 
do  frequently  engage  our  consent  before  we  are  aware. 
It  is  the  folly  and  ruin  of  most  people  to  live  at  adven- 
ture, and  take  part  in  every  thing  that  comes  in  their 
way,  seldom  considering  what  they  are  about  to  say  or 
do.  If  we  would  have  our  resolutions  take  effect,  we 
must  take  heed  unto  our  ways,  and  set  a  watch  before 
the  door  of  our  lips,  and  examine  the  motions  that  arise 
in  our  hearts,  and  cause  them  to  tell  us  whence  they 
come,  and  whither  they  go;  whether  it  be  pride  or  pas- 
sion, or  any  corrapt  and  vicious  humour,  that  prompteth 
us  to  any  design;  and  whether  Cod  will  be  offended,  or 
any  body  harmed  by  it.  And  if  we  have  no  time  for 
long  reasonings,  let  us  at  least  turn  our  eyes  toward 
God,  and  place  ourselves  in  his  presence,  to  ask  his 
leave  and  approbation  for  what  we  do:  let  us  consider 
ourselves  under  the  all-seeing  eye  of  that  divine  i\fa- 
jestv,  as  in  the  midst  of  an  infinite  globe  of  light,  which 
compasseth  us  about  both  behind  and  before,  and  pier- 
ceth  to  the  innermost  corners  of  our  soul.  The  sense 
and  remembrance  of  the  divine  presence  is  the  most 
ready  and  effectual  means,  both  to  discover  what  is  un- 
lawful, and  to  restrain  us  from  it.     There  are.  some 


5fr  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

things  a  person  could  make  shift  to  palliate  or  defend, 
and  yet  he  dares  not  look  ahnighty  God  in  the  face, 
and  adventure  upon  them.  If  we  look  unto  him,  we 
shall  be  lightened;  if  we  set  him  always  before  us, 
he  will  guide  us  by  his  eye,  and  instruct  us  in  the 
way  wherein  we  ought  to  walk. 

We  must  often  examine  our  actions. 
This  care  and  watchfulness  over  our  actions,  must  be 
seconded  by  frequent  and  serious  reflections  upon  them, 
not  only  that  we  may  obtain  the  divine  mercy  and  par- 
don for  our  sins,  by  an  humble  and  sorrowful  acknow- 
ledgement of  them;  but  also  that  we  may  re-enforce  and 
strengthen  our  resolutions,  and  learn  to  decline  or  resist 
the  temptations  by  which  we  have  been  formerly  foiled. 
It  is  an  advice  worthy  of  a  Christian,  though  it  did  first 
drop  from  a  heathen  pen,  "  That  before  we  betake 
ourselves  to  rest,  we  renew  and  examine  all  the  passa- 
ges of  the  day,  that  we  may  have  the  comfort  of  what 
we  have  done  aright,  and  may  redress  what  we  find  to 
have  been  amiss,  and  make  the  shipwrecks  of  one  day 
be  as  marks  to  direct  our  course  in  another."  This  may 
be  called  the  very  art  of  virtuous  living,  and  would  con- 
tribute wonderfully  to  advance  our  reformation,  and 
preserve  our  innocency.  But,  withal,  we  must  not  for- 
get to  implore  the  divine  assistance,  especially  against 
those  sins  that  do  most  easily  beset  us:  and  though  it  be 
supposed  that  our  hearts  are  not  yet  moulded  into  that 
spiritual  frame  which  should  render  our  devotions  ac- 
ceptable, yet,  methinks,  such  considerations  as  have  been 
proposed  to  deter  us  from  sin,  may  also  stir  us  up  to 
some  natural  seriousness,  and  make  our  prayers  against 
it  as  earnest,  at  least,  as  they  are  wont  to  be  against 
other  calamities:  and  I  doubt  not  but  God,  who  heareth 
the  cry  of  the  ravens,  will  have  some  regard  even  to 
such  petitions  as  proceed  from  those  natural  passions 
which  himself  hath  implanted  in  us.  Besides,  that  those 
pravers  against  sin,  will  be  powerful  engagements  on 
ourselves  to  excite  us  to  watchfulness  and  care;  and 
commoti  ingenuity  will  make  us  ashamed  to  relapse  into 


IN    THE    SOUL.    OF    MAN.  67 

those  faults,  which  we  have  lately  bewailed  before  God, 
and  against  which  we  have  begged  his  assistance. 

It  is  fit  to  restrain  ourselves  in  many  lawful  things. 
Thus  are  wc  to  make  the  first  essay  for  recovering 
the  divine  life,  by  restraining  the  natural  inclinations, 
that  they  break  not  out  into  sinful  practices:  but  now  I 
must  add,  that  Christian  prudence  will  teach  us  to  ab- 
stain fiom  gratifications  that  are  not  simply  unlawful, 
and  that  not  only  that  we  may  secure  our  innocence, 
which  would  be  in  continual  hazard  if  we  should  strain 
our  liberty  to  the  utmost  point;  but  also,  that  hereby  we 
may  weaken  the  forces  of  nature,  and  teach  our  appe- 
tites to  obey.  We  must  do  with  ourselves  as  prudent 
parents  with  their  children,  who  cross  their  wills  in 
many  little  indifferent  things,  to  make  them  manageable 
and  submissive  in  more  considerable  instances.  He  who 
would  mortify  the  pride  and  vanity  of  his  spirit,  should 
stop  his  ears  to  the  most  deserved  praises;  and  sometimes 
forbear  his  just  vindication  from  the  censures  and  asper- 
sions of  others,  especially  if  they  reflect  only  upon  his 
prudence  and  conduct,  and  not  on  his  virtue  and  inno- 
cence. He  who  would  check  a  revengeful  humour, 
would  do  well  to  deny  himself  the  satisfaction  of  repre- 
senting unto  others  the  injuries  which  he  hath  sustained; 
and  if  we  would  so  take  heed  to  our  ways,  that  we  sin 
not  with  our  tongue,  we  must  accustom  ourselves  much 
to  solitude  and  silence,  and  sometimes,  with  the  Psalm- 
ist, Hold  our  peace  even  from  good,  till  once  we  have 
gotten  some  command  over  that  unmly  member.  Thus, 
I  say,  we  may  bind  up  our  natural  inclinations,  and 
make  our  appetites  more  moderate  in  their  cravings,  by 
accustoming  them  to  frequent  refusals:  but  it  is  not 
enough  to  have  them  under  violence  and  restraint. 

We  must  strive  to  put  ourselves  out  of  love  with  the 

world. 

Our  next  essay  must  be  to  wean  our  affections  from 

created   things,  and  all   the  delights  and  entertainments 

of  the  lower  life,  which  sink  and  depress  the  soula 


■4 


58  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

of  men,  and  retard  their  motions  towards  God  and 
heaven;  and  this  we  must  do  by  possessing  our  minds 
with  a  deep  persuasion  of  the  vanity  and  emptin&ss  of 
worldly  enjoyments.  This  is  an  ordinary  theme,  and 
every  body  can  make  declamations  upon  it;  but  alas! 
how  i'ew  understand  and  believe  what  they  say!  These 
notions  float  in  our  brains,  and  come  sliding  off  our 
tongues,  but  we  have  no  deep  impression  of  them  on 
our  spirits,  we  feel  not  the  truth  which  we  pretend  to 
believe.  We  can  tell  that  all  the  glory  and  splendour, 
all  the  pleasures  and  enjoyments  of  the  world,  are  van- 
ity and  nothing;  and  yet  these  nothings  take  up  all  our 
thoughts,  and  engross  all  our  aftections;  they  stifle  the 
better  inclinations  of  our  soul,  and  inveigle  us  into 
many  a  sin.  It  may  be,  in  a  sober  mood,  we  give  them 
the  slight,  and  resolve  to  be  no  longer  deluded  with 
them;  but  these  thoughts  seldom  outlive  the  next  temp- 
tation; the  vanities  which  we  have  shut  out  at  the  door 
get  in  at  a  postern:  there  are  still  some  pretensions, 
some  hopes  that  flatter  us;  and  after  we  have  been 
frustrated  a  thousand  times,  we  must  be  continually 
repeating  the  experiment:  the  least  difference  of  cir- 
cumstances is  enough  to  delude  us,  and  make  us  ex- 
pect that  satisfaction  in  one  thing  which  we  have 
missed  in  another:  but  could  we  once  get  clearly  off", 
and  come  to  a  real  and  serious  contempt  of  worldly 
things,  this  were  a  very  considerable  advancement  in 
our  way.  The  soul  of  man  is  of  a  vigorous  and  active 
nature,  and  hath  in  it  a  raging  and  inextinguishable 
thirst,  an  immaterial  kind  of  fire,  always  catching  at 
some  object  or  other,  in  conjunction  wherewith  it 
thinks  to  be  happy;  and  were  it  once  rent  from  the 
world,  and  all  the  bewitching  enjoyments  under  the 
sun,  it  w-ould  quickly  search  after  some  liigher  and 
more  excellent  object,  to  satisfy  its  ardent  and  importu- 
nate cravings;  and  being  no  longer  dazzled  with  glitter- 
ing vanities,  would  fix  on  that  supreme  and  all-suffi- 
cient Good,  where  it  would  discover  such  beauty  and 
sweetness,  as  would  charm  and  overpower  all  its 
afTections.     The  love  of  the  world,  and  the   love   of 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN  59 

God,  are  like  the  scales  of  a  balance;  as  the  one  falleth, 
the  other  doth  rise:  when  our  natural  inclinations  pros- 
per, and  the  creature  is  exalted  in  our  soul,  religion  is 
faint,  and  doth  languish;  but  when  earthly  objects 
wither  away  and  lose  their  beauty,  and  the  soul  begins 
to  cool  and  flag  in  its  prosecution  of  them,  then  the 
seeds  of  grace  take  root,  and  the  divine  life  begins  to 
flourish  and  prevail.  It  doth,  therefore,  nearly  con- 
cern us,  to  convince  ourselves  of  the  emptiness  and  van- 
ity of  creature-enjoyments,  and  reason  our  hearts  out 
of  love  with  them:  let  us  seriously  consider  all  that  our 
reason,  or  our  faith,  our  own  experience,  or  the  ob- 
servation of  others,  can  suggest  to  this  effect;  let  us  pon- 
der the  matter  over  and  over,  and  fix  our  thoughts  on  this 
tnxth,  till  we  become  really  persuaded  of  it.  Amidst 
all  our  pursuits  and  designs,  let  us  stop  and  ask  ourselves, 
For  what  end  is  all  this?  at  what  do  I  aim?  can  the  gross 
and  muddy  pleasures  of  sense,  or  a  heap  of  white  and 
yellow  earth,  or  the  esteem  and  affection  of  siijy  creatures 
like  myself,  satisfy  a  rational  and  immortal  soul?  Have 
I  not  tried  these  things  already?  will  they  have  a  higher 
relish,  and  yield  me  more  contentment  tomorrow  than 
yesterday,  or  the  next  year  than  they  did  the  last?  There 
may  be  some  little  difference  between  that  which  I  am 
now  pursuing,  and  that  which  I  enjoyed  before;  but  sure 
my  former  enjoyments  did  show  as  pleasant,  and  promis- 
ed as  fair,  before  I  attained  them:  like  the  rainbow,  they 
looked  very  glorious  at  a  distance,  but  when  I  approach- 
ed I  found  nothing  but  emptiness  and  vapour.  O  what 
a  poor  thing  would  the  life  of  man  be,  if  it  were  ca- 
pable of  no  higher  enjoyments! 

I  cannot  insist  on  this  subject:  and  there  is  the  less 
need,  when  I  remember  to  whom  I  am  writing.  Yes, 
my  dear  friend,  you  have  had  as  great  experience  of 
the  emptiness  and  vanity  of  human  things,  and  have  at 
present  as  few  worldly  engagements  as  any  that  I 
know.  I  have  sometimes  reflected  on  those  passages 
of  your  life  wherewith  you  have  been  pleased  to  ac- 
quaint me;  and  methinks,  through  all,  I  can  discern  a 
design  of  the  divine  Providence  to  wean  your  affections 


60  THE    LIFE    or    COD 

from  every  thing  here  below.  The  trials  you  have 
had  of  those  things  whicli  the  world  doats  upon,  have 
taught  you  to  despise  theni;  and  you  have  found  by 
experience,  that  iseither  the  endowments  of  nature,  nor 
the  advantages  of  fortune,  are  sufficient  for  happiness; 
that  every  rose  hath  its  thorn,  and  there  may  be  a 
worm  at  the  root  of  the  fairest  gourd;  some  secret  and 
undiscerned  grief,  which  may  make  a  person  deserve 
the  pity  of  those  who  perhaps  do  admire  or  envy  their 
supposed  felicity.  If  any  earthly  comforts  have  got 
too  much  of  your  heart,  1  think  thev  have  been  your 
relations  and  friends;  and  the  dearest  of  these  are  re- 
moved out  of  the  world,  so  that  you  must  raise  your 
mind  towards  heaven,  when  you  would  think  upon 
them.  Thus  God  hath  provided  that  your  heart  may 
be  loosed  from  ths  world,  and  that  he  may  not  have 
any  rival  in  your  aftection,  which  I  have  always  ob- 
served to  be  so  large  and  unbounded,  so  noble  and  dis- 
interested, that  no  inferior  object  can  answer  or  de- 
serve it. 

We  must  do  those  outrcard  actions  that  aj-e 
commanded. 

When  we  have  got  our  corniptions  restrained,  and 
our  natural  appetites  and  inclinations  towards  worldly 
things  in  some  measure  subdued,  we  must  proceed  to 
such  exercises  as  have  a  more  immediate  tendency  to 
excite  and  awaken  the  divine  life:  and,  first,  let  us  en- 
deavour conscientiously  to  perform  those  duties  which 
religion  doth  require,  and  whereunto  it  would  incline 
us,  if  it  did  prevail  in  our  souls.  If  we  cannot  get 
our  inward  disposition  presently  changed,  let  us  study 
at  least  to  regulate  our  outward  deportment:  if  our 
hearts  be  not  yet  uiflamed  with  divine  love,  let  us,  how- 
ever, own  our  allegiance  to  that  infinite  Majesty,  by  at- 
tending his  service,  and  listening  to  his  word,  by  speak- 
ing reverently  of  his  name,  and  praising  his  goodness, 
and  exhorting  others  to  serve  and  obey  him.  If  w* 
want  that  charity,  and  those  bo\Vels  of  compassion 
which  we  ought  to  have  towards  our  neighbours,  yet 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN  61 

must  we  not  omit  any  occasion  of  doing  them  good:  if 
our  hearts  be  haughty  and  proud,  we  must  nevertheless 
study  a  modest  and  humble  deportment.  These  exter- 
nal performances  are  of  little  value  in  themselves,  yet 
they  may  help  us  forward  to  better  things.  The  apostle 
indeed  tells  us,  that  bodily  exercise  profiteth  little; 
but  he  seems  not  to  affirm  that  it  is  altogether  useless: 
it  is  always  good  to  be  doing  what  we  can,  for  then 
God  is  wont  to  pity  our  weakness,  and  assist  our  feeble 
endeavours;  and  when  true  charity  and  humility,  and 
other  graces  of  the  divine  Spirit,  come  to  take  root  in 
our  souls,  they  will  exert  themselves  more  freely,  and 
with  less  difficulty,  if  we  have  before  been  accustomed 
to  express  them  in  our  outward  conversations.  Nor 
need  we  fear  the  imputation  of  hypocrisy,  though  our 
actions  do  thus  somewhat  outrun  our  aifections,  seeing 
they  do  still  proceed  from  a  sense  of  our  duty;  and  our 
design  is  not  to  appear  better  than  we  are,  but  that  we 
may  really  become  so. 

We  must  endeavour  to  form  internal  acts  of 
deiwtioTi,  charity,  ^c. 

But  as  inward  acts  have  a  more  immediate  influence 
on  the  soul,  to  mould  it  to  a  right  temper  and  frame,  so 
ought  we  to  be  most  frequent  and  sedulous  in  the  exer- 
cise of  them.  Let  us  be  often  lifting  up  our  hearts  to- 
ward God;  and  if  we  do  not  say  that  we  love  him  above 
all  things,  let  us  at  least  acknowledge  that  it  is  our  duty, 
and  would  be  our  happiness  so  to  do ;  let  us  lament  the 
dishonour  done  unto  him  by  foolish  and  sinful  men,  and 
applaud  the  praises  and  adorations  that  are  given  him 
by  that  blessed  and  glorious  company  above:  let  us  re- 
sign and  yield  ourselves  up  unto  him  a  thousand  times, 
to  be  governed  by  his  laws,  and  disposed  of  at  his  plea- 
sure. And  though  our  stubborn  hearts  should  start  back 
and  refuse ;  yet  let  us  tell  him  we  are  convinced  that 
his  will  is  always  just  and  good;  and  therefore  desire 
Iiim  to  do  with  us  whatsoever  he  pleaseth,  whether  we 
will  or  not.  And  so,  for  begetting  in  us  an  universal 
charity  towards  men,  we  must  be  frequently  putting  up 


62  tut    LIFE    OF     GOD" 

wishes  for  their  happiness,  and  blessing  every  persoii 
that  we  see  ;  and  when  we  have  done  any  thing  for  the 
relief  of  the  miserable,  we  may  second  it  \Aith  earnest 
desires  that  God  would  take  care  of  them,  and  deliver 
them  out  of  all  their  distresses. 

Thus  should  we  exercise  ourselves  unto  godliness. 
And  when  we  are  employing  the  powers  that  we  have, 
the  Spirit  of  God  is  wont  to  strike  in,  and  elevate  these 
acts  of  our  soul  beyond  the  pitch  of  nature,  and  give 
them  a  divine  impression:  and,  after  the  frequent  reit- 
eration of  these,  we  shall  find  ourselves  more  inclined 
unto  them,  they  flowing  with  greater  freedom  and 
ease. 

Consideration  a  great  instrument  of  religion. 

I  shall  mention  but  two  other  means  for  begetting  that 
holy  and  divine  temper  of  spirit  which  is  the  subject  of 
the  present  discourse.  And  the  first  is,  a  deep  and  se- 
rious consideration  of  the  tniths  of  our  religion,  and  that 
both  as  to  the  certainty  and  importance  of  them.  The 
assent  which  is  ordinarily  given  to  divine  trutlis,  is  \ety 
faint  and  languid;  very  Weak  and  ineffectual;  flowing 
only  from  a  blind  inclination  to  follow  that  religion 
which  is  in  fashion,  or  a  lazy  indifference  and  uncon- 
cernedness  whether  things  be  so  or  not.  Men  are  un- 
willing to  quarrel  with  the  religion  of  their  country,  and 
since  all  their  neighbours  are  christians,  they  are  content 
to  be  so  too ;  but  they  are  seldom  at  the  pains  to  consid- 
er the  evidences  of  those  truths,  or  to  ponder  the  impor- 
tance and  tendency  of  them ;  and  ihence  it  is  that  they 
have  so  little  influence  on  their  affections  and  practice. 
Those  spiritless  and  j^aralytic  thoughts  (as  one  doth 
rightly  term  them)  are  not  able  to  move  the  will  and  di- 
rect the  hand:  we  must  therefore  endeavour  to  work 
up  our  minds  to  a  serious  belief  and  full  persuasion  of 
divine  truths,  ixnto  a  sense  and  feeling  of  spiritual  things. 
Our  thoughts  must  dwell  upon  them,  till  we  are  both 
convinced  of  them,  and  deeply  aflected  with  them.  Let 
us  urge  forward  our  spirits,  and  make  them  approach 
the  invisible  world;  and  fix  our  minds  upon  immaterial 


IS    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  63 

things,  till  we  clearly  perceive  that  these  are  no  dreams; 
nay,  that  all  things  are  dreams  and  shadows  besides 
them.  When  we  look  about  us  and  behold  the  beauty 
and  magnificence  of  this  goodly  frame,  the  order  and 
harmony  of  the  whole  creation,  let  our  thoughts  from 
thence  take  their  flight  towards  that  omnipotent  wisdom 
and  goodness  which  did  at  first  produce,  and  doth  still 
establish  and  uphold  the  same.  When  we  reflect  upon 
ourselves,  let  us  consider  that  we  are  not  a  mere  piece 
of  organized  matter;  a  curious  and  well  contrived  engine; 
that  there  is  more  in  us  than  flesh,  and  blood,  and  bones; 
even  a  divine  spark,  capable  to  know,  and  love,  and 
enjoy  our  Maker;  and  though  it  be  now  exceedingly  clog- 
ged with  its  dull  and  lumpish  companion,  yet  ere  long 
it  shall  be  delivered,  and  can  subsist  without  the  body, 
as  well  as  that  can  do  without  the  clothes  which  we 
throw  ofl^  at  our  pleasure.  Let  us  often  withdraw  our 
thoughts  from  this  earth,  this  scene  of  misery,  folly,  and 
sin,  and  raise  them  towards  that  more  vast  and  glorious 
world,  whose  innocent  and  blessed  inhabitants  solace 
themselves  eternally  in  the  divine  presence,  and  know 
no  other  passion  but  an  unmixed  joy,  and  an  unbounded 
love:  and  then  consider  how  the  blessed  Son  of  God 
came  down  to  this  lower  world  to  live  among  us,  and 
die  for  us,  that  he  might  bring  us  to  a  portion  of  the  same 
felicity ;  and  think  how  he  hath  overcome  the  sharpness 
of  death,  and  opened  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  be- 
lievers, and  is  now  set  down  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
Majesti/  on  high;  and  yet  is  not  the  less  mindful  of  us, 
but  receiveth  our  prayers,  and  presenteth  them  unto  his 
Father;  and  is  daily  visiting  his  church  with  the  influen- 
ces of  his  Spirit,  as  the  sun  reacheth  us  with  his  beams. 

To  beget  divine  love,  ive  must  consider  the  excel- 
lency of  the  divine  nature. 
The  serioiis  and  frequent  consideration  of  these,  and 
such  other  divine  truths,  is  the  most  proper  method  to 
beget  that  lively  faith  which  is  the  foundation  of  religion, 
the  spring  and  root  of  the  divine  life.  Let  me  further 
suggest  some  particular  subjects  of  meditation  for  pro- 


64  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

ducing  the  several  branches  of  it.  And,  first,  to  inflame 
our  souls  with  the  love  of  God,  let  us  consider  the  ex- 
cellency of  his  nature,  and  his  love  and  kindness  towards 
Ks.  It  is  little  we  know  of  the  divine  perfection,  and  yet 
that  little  may  suffice  to  fill  our  souls  with  admiration 
and  love;  to  ravish  our  affections  as  well  as  to  raise  our 
wonder:  for  we  are  not  merely  creatures  of  sense,  that 
we  should  be  incapable  of  any  other  affection  but  that 
which  entereth  by  the  eyes.  The  character  of  any  ex- 
cellent person  whom  we  have  never  seen,  will  many 
times  engage  our  hearts,  and  make  us  hugely  concerned 
in  all  his  interests.  And  what  is  it,  I  pray  you,  that  en- 
gages us  so  much  to  those  with  whom  we  converse?  I 
cannot  think  that  it  is  merely  the  colour  of  their  face, 
or  their  comely  proportions;  for  then  we  should  fhll  in 
love  with  statues,  and  pictures,  and  flowers.  These 
outward  accomplishments  may  a  little  delight  the  eye, 
but  would  never  be  able  to  prevail  so  much  on  the  heart, 
if  they  did  not  represent  some  vital  perfection.  We 
either  see  or  apprehend  some  greatness  of  mind,  or  vig- 
our of  spirit,  or  sweetness  of  disposition;  some  spright- 
liness,  or  wisdom,  or  goodness,  which  charm  our  spirit, 
and  command  our  love.  Now  these  perfections  are  not 
obvious  to  the  sight,  the  eyes  can  only  discern  the  signs 
and  eft'ects  of  them;  and  if  it  be  the  understanding  that 
directs  the  affection,  and  vital  perfections  prevail  with  it, 
certainly  the  excellencies  of  the  divine  nature  (the  tra- 
ces whereof  we  cannot  but  discover  in  every  thing  we 
behold)  would  not  fail  to  engage  our  hearts,  if  we  did 
seriously  view  and  regard  them,  Shall  we  not  be  infi- 
nitely more  transported  with  that  almighty  wisdom  and 
goodness  which  fills  the  universe,  and  displays  itself  in 
all  the  parts  of  creation,  which  establisheth  the  frame  of 
nature,  and  tumeth  the  mighty  wheels  of  providence, 
and  keepeth  the  world  from  disorder  and  ruin,  than  with 
the  faint  rays  of  the  same  perfections  which  we  meet 
with  in  our  fellow-creatures?  Shall  we  doat  on  the  scat- 
tered pieces  of  a  rude  and  imperfect  picture,  and  never 
be  affected  with  the  original  beauty?  This  were  an  un- 
ibccountable  stupidity  and  blindness.     Whatever  we  find 


IN    THE    SOXTL    OF    MAN".  65 

lovely  in  a  friend,  or  in  a  saint,  onght  not  to  engross,  but 
to  elevate  our  affection.  We  should  conclude  with  our- 
selves, that  if  there  be  so  much  sweetness  in  a  drop, 
there  must  be  iniinitely  more  in  the  fountain;  if  there  be 
so  much  splendour  in  a  ray,  what  must  the  sun  be  in  its 
glory? 

Nor  can  we  pretend  the  remoteness  of  the  object,  as 
if  God  were  at  too  great  a  distance  for  our  converse  or 
our  love:  He  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us;  for  in 
him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being.  We 
cannot  open  our  eyes,  but  we  must  behold  some  foot- 
steps of  his  glory;  and  we  cannot  tuni  them  toward  him, 
but  we  shall  be  sure  to  find  his  intent  upon  us;  waiting 
as  it  were  to  catch  a  look,  ready  to  entertain  the  most 
intimate  fellowship  and  communion  with  us.  Let  us 
therefore  endeavour  to  raise  our  minds  to  the  clearest 
conceptions  of  the  divine  nature.  Let  us  consider  all 
that  his  works  do  declare,  or  his  word  doth  discover  of 
him  unto  us ;  and  let  us  especially  contemplate  that  visi- 
ble representation  of  him  which  was  made  in  our  own 
nature  by  his  Son,  who  was  the  brightness  of  his  glo- 
ry, and  the  express  image  of  his  person;  and  who 
appeared  in  the  world  to  discover  at  once  what  God  is, 
and  what  we  ought  to  be.  Let  us  represent  him  unto 
our  minds  as  we  find  him  described  in  the  gospel;  and 
there  we  shall  behold  the  perfections  of  the  divine  na- 
ture, though  covered  with  the  veil  of  human  infirmities; 
and  when  we  have  framed  unto  ourselves  the  clearest 
notion  that  we  can  of  a  Being,  infinite  in  power,  in 
wisdom,  and  goodness;  the  author  and  fountain  of  all 
perfections,  let  us  fix  the  eyes  of  our  soul  upon  it,  that 
our  eyes  may  affect  our  heart,  and  while  we  are  musr 
ing  the  fire  will  burn. 

TVe  should  meditate  on  God^s  goodness  and  love, 
Especially,  if  hereunto  we  add  the  consideration  of 
God's  favour  and  good-will  towards  us;  nothing  is  more 
powerful  to  engage  our  affection,  than  to  find  that  we 
are  beloved.  J^xpressions  of  kindness  are  always  pleas- 
ing and  acceptable  unto  us,  though  the  person  shoiild  be 
6* 


©6  THK     LIFE    OF    GOD 

Otherwise  mean  and  contemptible:  but  to  have  the  love 
of  one  who  is  altogether  lovely,  to  know  that  the  glori- 
ous Majesty  of  heaven  hath  any  regard  unto  us,  how 
must  it  astonish  and  delight  us!  how  must  it  overcome 
our  spirits,  and  melt  our  hearts,  and  put  our  whole  soul 
into  a  flame!  Now  as  the  word  of  God  is  full  of  the 
expressions  of  his  love  towards  man,  so  all  his  works  do 
loudly  proclaim  it;  he  gave  us  our  being,  and  by  pre- 
serving us  in  it,  doth  renew  the  donation  every  moment. 
He  hath  placed  us  in  a  rich  and  well  furnished  world, 
and  liberally  provided  for  all  our  necessities;  he  raineth 
down  blessings  from  heaven  upon  us,  and  causeth  the 
earth  to  bring  forth  our  provision;  he  giv'eth  us  our  food 
and  raiment,  and  while  we  are  spending  the  productions 
of  one  year,  he  is  preparing  for  us  against  another.  He 
Bweeteneth  our  lives  with  innumerable  comforts,  and 
gratifieth  every  faculty  with  suitable  objects;  the  eye  of 
his  providence  is  always  upon  us,  and  he  watcheth  for 
our  safety  when  we  are  fast  asleep,  neither  minding  him 
nor  ourselves.  But  lest  we  should  think  these  testimo- 
nies of  his  kindness  less  considerable,  because  they  are 
the  easy  issues  of  his  omnipotent  power,  and  do  not  put 
him  to  any  trouble  or  pain,  he  hath  taken  a  more  won- 
derful method  to  endear  himself  to  us;  he  hath  testified 
his  affection  to  us,  by  suffering  as  well  as  by  doing;  and 
because  he  could  not  suffer  in  his  own  nature  he  assumed 
ours.  The  eternal  Son  of  God  did  clothe  himself  with 
the  infirmities  of  our  flesh,  and  left  the  company  of 
those  innocent  and  blessed  spirits,  who  knew  well  how 
to  love  and  adore  him,  that  he  might  dwell  among 
men,  and  wrestle  with  the  obstinacy  of  that  rebellious 
race,  to  reduce  them  to  their  allegiance  and  fidelity,  and 
then  to  ofier  himself  up  as  a  sacrifice  and  propitiation 
for  them.  I  remember  one  of  the  poets  hath  an  ingeni- 
ous fancy  to  express  the  passion  wherewith  he  found 
himself  overcome  after  a  long  resistance:  *'  That  the 
god  of  love  had  shot  all  his  golden  arrows  at  him,  but 
could  never  pierce  his  heart,  till  at  length  he  put  himself 
into  the  bow,  and  darted  himself  straight  into  his  breast." 
Methinks  thia  doth  some  way  adumbrate  God's  method 


I3Sr    THB    SOUL    OP    MAW.  OT 

fif  dealing  with  men:  he  had  long  contended  with  a  stub- 
bora  world,  and  thrown  down  many  a  blessing  upon 
them ;  and  when  all  his  other  gifts  could  not  prevail,  he  at 
last  made  a  gift  of  himself,  to  testify  his  atfection  and 
engage  theirs.  The  account  which  we  have  of  our  Sa- 
viour's life  in  the  gospel,  doth  all  along  present  us  with 
the  story  of  his  love;  all  the  pains  that  he  took,  and  the 
troubles  that  he  endured,  were  the  wonderful  effects, 
and  uncontrollable  evidences  of  it.  But  O  that  last,  that 
dismal  scene!  Is  it  possible  to  remember  it,  and  ques- 
tion his  kindness,  or  deny  him  ours?  Here,  here  it  is, 
my  dear  friend,  that  we  should  fix  our  most  serious  and 
'solemn  thoughts,  that  Christ  may  dwell  in  our  hearts  by 
faith:  that  we  being  rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  may  be 
able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints,  what  is  the  breadth, 
and  length,  and  depth,  and  height;  and  to  know  the  love 
of  Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge,  that  we  may  be 
filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God. 

We  ought  also  frequently  to  reflect  on  those  particu- 
lar tokens  of  favour  and  love,  which  God  hath  bestowed 
9n  ourselves;  how  long  he  hath  borne  with  our  follies  and 
sins,  and  waited  to  be  gracious  unto  us;  wrestling,  as  it 
were,  with  the  stubbornness  of  our  hearts,  and  essaying 
every  method  to  reclaim  us.  We  should  keep  a  register 
in  our  minds  of  all  the  eminent  blessings  and  deliver- 
ances we  have  met  with;  some  whereof  have  been  so 
conveyed,  that  we  might  clearly  perceive  they  were  not 
the  issues  of  chance,  but  the  gracious  effects  of  the  di- 
vine favour,  and  the  signal  returns  of  our  prayers.  Nor 
ought  we  to  imbitter  the  thoughts  of  these  things  with 
any  harsh  or  unworthy  suspicion,  as  if  they  were  design- 
ed on  purpose  to  enhance  our  guilt,  and  heighten  our 
eternal  damnation.  No,  no,  my  friend,  God  is  love, 
and  ha  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  ruin  of  his  creatures;  if 
they  abuse  his  goodness,  and  turn  his  grace  into  wanton- 
ness, and  thereby  plunge  themselves  into  greater  depths 
of  guilt  and  misery,  this  is  the  effect  of  their  obstinate 
wickedness,  and  not  the  design  of  those  benefits  which 
he  bestows. 

If  these  consiidcrations  had  once  begotten  in  our  heaiSs 


68  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

a  real  love  and  affection  towards  Almighty  God,  that 
would  easily  lead  us  unto  the  other  branches  of  religion, 
and  therefore  I  shall  need  say  the  less  of  them. 

To  beget  charity  we  must  remember  that  all  men 
are  nearly  related  unto  God. 
We  shall  find  our  hearts  enlarged  in  charity  towards 
men,  by  considering  the  relation  wherein  they  stand 
unto  God,  and  the  impresses  of  his  image  which  are 
stamped  upon  them.  They  are  not  only  his  creatures, 
the  workmanship  of  his  hands,  but  such  of  whom  he 
taketh  special  care,  and  for  whom  he  hath  a  very  dear 
and  tender  regard;  having  laid  the  design  of  their  hap- 
piness before  the  foundations  of  the  world,  and  being 
willing  to  live  and  converse  with  them  to  all  the  ages  of 
eternity.  The  meanest  and  most  contemptible  person 
whom  we  behold,  is  the  offspring  of  heaven,  one  of  the 
children  of  the  Most  High;  and  however  unworthy  he 
might  behave  himself  of  that  relation,  so  long  as  God 
hath  not  abdicated  and  disowned  him  by  a  final  sen- 
tence, he  will  have  us  to  acknowledge  him  as  one  of  his, 
and  as  such  to  embrace  him  with  a  sincere  and  cordial 
affection.  You  know  what  a  great  concernment  we  are 
wont  to  have  for  those  that  do  anywise  belong  to  the 
person  whom  we  love;  how  gladly  we  lay  hold  on  ev- 
ery opportunity  to  gratify  the  child  or  servant  of  a  friend; 
and  sure  our  love  towards  God  would  as  naturally  spring 
forth  in  charity  towards  men,  did  we  mind  the  interest 
that  he  is  pleased  to  take  in  them,  and  consider  that  ev- 
ery soul  is  dearer  unto  him  than  all  the  material  world: 
and  that  he  did  not  account  the  blood  of  his  son  too 
great  a  price  for  their  redemption, 

That  they  carry  God's  image  upon  them. 
Again,  as  all  men  stand  in  a  near  relation  to  God,  so 
they  have  still  so  much  of  his  image  stamped  upon  them, 
as  may  oblige  and  excite  us  to  love  them;  in  some  this 
image  is  more  eminent  and  conspicuous,  and  we  can 
discern  the  lovely  traces  of  wisdom  and  goodness;  and 
though  in  pthers  \\  is  miserably  sullied  and  defaced^  yet 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  69 

it  is  not  altogether  erased,  some  lineaments  at  least  do 
still  remain.  All  men  are  endued  with  rational  and 
immortal  souls,  with  understandings  and  wills  capable  of 
the  highest  and  most  excellent  things;  and  if  they  be  at 
present  disordered  and  put  out  of  tune  by  wickedness 
and  folly,  this  may  indeed  move  our  compassion,  but 
ought  not  in  reason  to  extinguish  our  love.  When  we 
see  a  person  in  a  rugged  humour,  and  perverse  disposi- 
tion, full  of  malice  and  dissimulation,  very  foolish  and 
very  proud,  it  is  hard  to  fall  in  love  with  an  object  that 
presents  itself  unto  us  under  an  idea  so  little  grateful 
and  lovely.  But  when  we  shall  consider  these  evil 
qualities  as  the  diseases  and  distempers  of  a  soul,  which 
in  itself  is  capable  of  all  that  wisdom  and  goodness 
wherewith  the  best  of  saints  have  ever  been  adorned, 
and  which  may  one  day  ctjme  to  be  raised  unto  such 
heights  of  perfection  as  shall  render  it  a  fit  companion  for 
the  holy  angels,  this  will  turn  our  aversion  into  pity, 
and  make  us  behold  him  with  such  resentments  as  we 
should  have  when  we  look  upon  a  beautiful  body  that 
was  mangled  with  wounds,  or  disfigured  by  some  loath- 
some disease;  and  however  we  hate  the  vices,  we  shall 
not  cease  to  love  the  man. 

To  beget  pur iti/,  we  should  consider  the  dignity  of 
our  nature. 
In  the  nSKt  place,  for  purifying  our  souls,  and  disen- 
tangling our  affections  from  the  pleasures  and  enjoy- 
ments of  this  lower  life,  let  us  frequently  ponder  the  ex- 
cellency and  dignity  of  our  nature,  and  what  a  shame- 
ful and  luiwoithy  thing  it  is  for  so  noble  and  divine  a 
creature  as  the  soul  of  man,  to  be  sunk  and  immersed 
in  brutish  and  sensual  lust,  or  amused  with  airy  and 
fantastical  delights,  and  so  to  lose  the  relish  of  solid 
and  spiritual  pleasures;  that  the  beast  should  be  fed  and 
pampered,  and  the  man  and  the  christian  be  starved  in 
us.  Did  we  but  mind  who  we  are,  and  for  what  we 
were  made,  this  would  teach  us  in  a  right  sense  to  rev- 
erence and  stand  in  awe  of  ourselves;  it  would  beget  a 
modesty  and  shame-facedness,  and  make  us  very  shy 


70  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

and  reserved  in  the  use  of  the  most  mnocent  and  allow- 
able pleasures. 

We  should  meditate  often  on  the  joys  of  heaven. 
It  will  be  very  effectual  to  the  same  purpose,  that 
we  frequently  raise  our  minds  towards  heaven,  and  re- 
present to  our  thoughts  the  joys  that  are  at  God's  right 
hand,  those  pleasures  that  endure  for  evermore;  for 
every  jnan  that  hath  this  hope  in  him,  purifieth 
himself,  even  as  he  is  pure.  If  our  heavenly  country 
be  much  in  our  thoughts,  it  will  make  us,  as  strangers 
and  pilgrims,  to  abstain  from  fleshly  lusts,  which  war 
against  the  soul,  and  keep  ourselves  unspotted  from  this 
w^orld,  that  we  may  be  fit  for  the  enjoyments  and  felici- 
ties of  the  other.  But  then  we  must  see  that  our  notions 
of  heaven  be  not  gross  and  carnal,  that  we  dream  not 
of  a  Mahometan  paradise,  nor  rest  on  those  metaphors 
and  similitudes  by  which  these  joys  are  sometimes  repre- 
sented; for  this  might,  perhaps,  have  quite  a  contrary 
effect;  it  might  entangle  us  further  in  carnal  affections, 
and  we  should  be  ready  to  indulge  ourselves  in  a  very 
liberal  foretaste  of  those  pleasures,  wherein  we  had  pla- 
ced our  everlasting  felicity.  But  when  we  come  once 
to  conceive  aright  of  those  pure  and  spiritual  pleasures, 
when  the  happiness  we  propose  to  ourselves  is  from  the 
sight,  and  love,  and  enjoyment  of  God,  and  our  minds 
are  filled  with  the  hopes  and  forethoughts  of  W)at  blessed 
estate;  O  how  mean  and  contemptible  will  all  things 
here  below  appear  in  our  eyes!  with  what  disdain  shall 
we  reject  the  gross  and  muddy  pleasures  that  would  de- 
prive us  of  those  celestial  enjoyments,  or  any  way  un- 
fit and  indispose  us  for  them. 

Humility  arises  from  the  consideration  of  our 
failings. 
The  last  branch  of  religion  is  humility,  and  sure  we 
can  never  want  matter  of  consideration  for  begettmg  it: 
all  our  wickednesses  and  imperfections,  all  our  follies 
and  our  sins,  may  help  to  pull  down  that  fond  and  over- 
\Y^eening  conceit  which  we  are  apt  to   entertain  of  our* 


IN    THE    SOUL    OF    MAN.  71 

selves.  That  which  makes  any  body  esteem  us,  is 
then-  knowledge  or  apprehension  of  some  little  good, 
and  their  ignorance  of  a  great  deal  of  evil  that  may  be 
in  us;  were  they  thoroughly  acquainted  with  us,  they 
would  quickly  change  their  opinion.  The  thouglits 
that  pass  in  our  heart,  in  the  best  and  most  serious  day 
of  our  life,  being  exposed  unto  public  view,  would  ren- 
der us  either  hatefal  or  ridiculous:  and  now,  however 
we  conceal  our  failings  from  one  another,  yet  sure  we 
are  conscious  of  them  ourselves,  and  some  serious  reflec- 
tions upon  them  would  much  qualify  and  allay  the  van- 
ity of  our  spirits.  Thus  holy  men  have  come  really  to 
think  worse  of  themselves,  than  of  any  other  person  in 
the  world:  not  but  that  they  knew  that  gross  and  scan- 
dalous vices  are,  in  their  nature j  more  heinous  than  the 
surprisals  of  temptations  and  infirmity;  but  because  they 
were  much  more  intent  on  their  own  miscarriages,  than 
on  those  of  their  neighbours,  and  did  consider  all  the  ag- 
gravations of  the  one,  and  every  thing  that  might  be 
supposed  to  diminish  and  alleviate  the  other. 

Thoughts  of  God  give  us  the  loioest  thoughts  of 
ourselves. 
But  it  is  well  observed  by  a  pious  writer,  that  the 
deepest  and  most  pure  humility  doth  not  so  much  arise 
from  the  consideration  of  our  own  faults  and  defects,  as 
from  a  calm  and  quiet  contemplation  of  the  divine  puri- 
ty and  goodness.  Our  spots  never  appear  so  clearly, 
as  when  we  place  them  before  this  infinite  light;  and  we 
never  seem  less  in  our  own  eyes,  than  when  we  look 
down  upon  ourselves  from  on  high.  O  how  little,  how 
nothing  do  all  those  shadows  of  perfection  then  appear, 
for  which  we  are  wont  to  value  ourselves'.  That  hu- 
mility which  Cometh  from  a  view  of  our  own  sinfulness 
and  misery,  is  more  turbulent  and  boisterous;  but  the 
other  layeth  us  full  as  low,  and  wanteth  nothing  of  that 
anguish  and  vexation  wherewith  our  souls  are  apt  to  boil 
when  thpy  are  the  nearest  objects  of  our  thoughts. 


72  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

Prayer,  another  instrianent  of  religion,  and  the 
advantages  of  mental  prayer. 
There  remains  yet  another  means  for  begetting  a  holy 
and  religroTis  disposition  in  the  soul;  and  that  is,  fervent 
and  hearty  prayer.  Holiness  is  the  gift  of  God;  indeed 
the  greatest  gift  he  doth  bestow,  or  we  are  capable  to  re- 
ceive ;  and  he  hath  promised  his  holy  Spirit  to  those  that 
ask  it  of  him.  In  prayer  we  make  the  nearest  approach- 
es to  God,  and  lie  open  to  the  influences  of  heaven:  theo 
it  is  that  the  smi  of  righteousness  doth  visit  us  with  his 
directest  rays,  and  dissipateth  our  darkness,  and  imprint- 
eth  his  image  on  our  souls.  I  cannot  now  insist  on  the 
advantages  of  this  exercise,  or  the  dispositions  where- 
with it  ought  to  be  performed,  and  there  is  no  need  I 
should,  there  being  so  many  boolis  that  treat  on  this 
eubject;  1  shall  only  tell  you,  that  as  there  is  one  sort  of 
prayer  wherein  we  make  use  of  the  voice,  which  is 
necessary  in  public,  and  may  sometimes  have  its  own 
advantages  in  private;  and  another  wherein  though  we 
utter  no  sound,  yet  we  conceive  the  expressions  and 
form  the  words,  as  it  were,  in  our  minds:  so  there  is  a 
third  and  more  sublime  kind  of  prayer,  wherein  the  soul 
takes  a  higher  flight,  and  having  collected  all  its  forces 
by  long  and  serious  meditation,  it  darteth  itself  (if  I 
may  so  speak)  towards  God  in  sighs,  and  groans, 
and  thoughts  too  big  for  expression.  As  when,  after  a 
deep  contemplation  of  the  divine  perfections  appearing 
in  all  his  works  of  wonder,  it  addresseth  itself  unto  him 
in  the  profoundest  adoration  of  his  majesty  and  glory:  or 
when,  after  sad  reflections  on  its  vileness  and  miscar- 
riages, it  prostrates  itself  before  him  with  the  greatest 
confusion  and  sorrow,  not  daring  to  lift  up  its  eyes,  or 
titter  one  word  in  his  presence:  or  when  having  well  con- 
sidered the  beauty  of  holiness,  and  the  unspeakable  fe- 
licity of  those  that  are  truly  good,  it  panteth  after  God, 
and  sendeth  up  such  vigorous  and  ardent  desires  as  no 
words  can  sufficiently  express,  continuing  and  repeating 
each  of  these  acts  as  long  as  it  fmds  itself  upheld  by  the 
force  and  impulse  of  the  previous  meditation. 


IN"    THE    SOUL    OF    MAIf.  7§ 

This  mental  prayer  is  of  all  others  the  most  effectual 
tg  purify  the  soul,  and  dispose  it  unto  a  holy  and  reli- 
gious temper,  and  may  be  termed  the  great  secret  of  de- 
votion, and  one  of  the  most  powerful  instruments  of  the 
divine  life;  and  it  maybe  the  apostle  hath  a  peculiar 
respect  unto  it,  when  he  saith,  that  the  Spirit  helpeth 
our  infirmities,  making  intercession  for  us  with 
groanings  that  cannot  he  uttered;  or,  the  original 
may  bear,  that  cannot  he  worded.  Yet  I  do  not  so 
recommend  this  sort  of  prayer,  as  to  supersede  the  use 
of  the  other;  for  we  have  so  many  several  things  to  pray 
for,  and  every  petition  of  this  nature  requireth  so  much 
time,  and  so  great  an  intention  of  spirit,  that  it  were 
not  easy  therein  to  overtake  them  all;  to  say  nothing 
that  the  deep  sighs  and  heavings  of  the  heart  which  are 
wont  to  accompany  it,  are  something  oppressive  to  na- 
ture, and  make  it  hard  to  continue  long  in  them.  But 
certainly  a  few  of  these  inward  aspirations,  will  do  more 
than  a  great  many  fluent  and  melting  expressions. 

Religion  is  to  he  advanced  hy  the  same  jneans  hy 
which  it  is  hegun;  and  the  use  of  the  holy  Sa- 
crament towards  it. 

Thus,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  briefly  proposed  the 
method  which  I  judge  proper  for  moulding  the  soul 
into  a  holy  frame;  and  the  same  means  which  serve  to 
beget  this  divine  temper,  must  still  be  practised  for 
strengthening  and  advancing  it;  and  therefore  I  shall  re- 
commend but  one  more  for  that  purpose,  and  that  is  the 
frequent  and  conscientious  use  of  that  holy  Sacrament, 
which  is  peculiarly  appointed  to  nourish  and  increase 
the  spiritual  life,  when  once  it  is  begotten  in  the  soul. 
All  the  instruments  of  religion  do  meet  together  in  this 
ordinance;  and  while  we  address  ourselves  unto  it,  we 
are  put  to  practise  a«  1  the  rules  which  were  mentioned  be- 
fore. Then  it  is  that  we  make  the  severest  survey  of 
Our  actions,  and  lay  the  strictest  obligations  on  ourselves; 
then  are  our  minds  raised  to  the  highest  contempt  of  the 
world,  and  every  grace  doth  exercise  itself  with  the 
greatest  activity  and  vigour;  all  the  subjects  of  contend-' 
'7 


74  THE    LIFE    OF    GOD 

plation  do  tliere  present  themselves  unto  us  with  the 
greatest  advantage;  and  then,  if  ever,  doth  the  soul 
make  its  most  powerful  sallies  towards  heaven,  and 
assault  it  with  a  holy  and  acceptable  force.  And  cer- 
tainly the  neglect  or  careless  performance  of  this  duty, 
is  one  of  the  chief  causes  that  bedvvarfs  our  religion,  and 
makes  us  continue  of  so  low  a  size. 

But  it  is  time  I  should  put  a  close  to  this  letter, 
which  is  grown  to  a  far  greater  bulk  than  at  first  I  in- 
tended: if  these  poor  papers  can  do  you  the  smallest  ser- 
vice, I  shall  think  myself  very  happy  in  this  undertak- 
ing; at  least,  I  am  hopeful  you  will  kindly  accept  the 
sincere  endeavours  of  a  person  who  would  fain  acquit 
himself  of  some  part  of  that  which  he  ov^es  you. 

A  PRAYER. 

"And  now,  O  most  gracious  God,  Father  and  Fountain 
of  mercy  and  goodness,  who  hast  blessed  us  with  the 
knowledge  of  our  happiness,  and  the  way  that  leadeth 
unto  it,  excite  in  our  souls  such  ardent  desires  after  the 
one,  as  may  put  us  forth  to  the  diligent  prosecution  of 
the  other.  Let  us  neither  presume  on  our  own  strength, 
nor  distrust  thy  divine  assistance;  but  while  we  are  do- 
ing our  utmost  endeavours,  teach  us  still  to  depend  on 
thee  for  success  Open  our  eyes,  O  God,  and  teach 
us  out  of  thy  law  Bless  us  with  an  exact  and  tender 
sense  of  our  duty,  and  a  knowledge  to  discern  perverse 
things.  O  that  our  ways  were  directed  to  keep  thy 
statutes,  then  shall  we  not  be  ashamed  when  we  have 
respect  unto  all  thy  commandments.  Possess  our  hearts 
with  a  generous  and  holy  disdain  of  all  those  poor  en- 
joyments which  this  world  holdeth  out  to  allure  us,  that 
they  may  never  be  able  to  inveigle  our  affections,  or 
betray  us  to  any  sin:  turn  away  our  eyes  from  behold- 
ing vanity,  and  quicken  thou  us  in  thy  law.  Fill  our 
souls  with  such  a  deep  sense  and  full  persuasion  of 
those  great  truths  which  thou  hast  revealed  in  the  gos- 
pel, as  may  influence  and  regulate  our  whole  conversa- 
tion; and  that  the  life  which  we  henceforth  live  in  the 
flesh,  we  may  live  through  faith  in  the  Son  of  God.     O 


IN    THE    SODL.     OF    MAN.  75 

that  the  infinite  perfections  of  thy  blessed  nature,  and 
the  astonishing  expressions  of  thy  goodness  and  love, 
may  conquer  and  overpower  our  hearts,  that  they  may 
be  constantly  rising  toward  thee  in  flames  of  the  devout- 
est  affection,  and  enlarging  themselves  in  sincere  and 
cordial  love  towards  all  the  world,  for  thy  sake;  and 
that  we  may  cleanse  ourselves  from  all  filthiness  of  flesh 
and  spirit,  perfecting  holiness  in  thy  fear,  without  which 
wc  can  never  hope  to  behold  and  enjoy  thee.  Finally, 
O  God,  grant  that  the  consideration  of  what  thou  art, 
and  what  we  ourselves  are,  may  both  humble  and  lay 
us  low  before  thee,  and  also  stir  up  in  us  the  strongest 
and  most  ardent  aspirations  towards  thee.  We  desire 
to  resign  and  give  up  ourselves  to  the  conduct  of  thy 
holy  Spirit;  lead  us  in  thy  truth,  and  teach  us,  for  thou 
art  the  God  of  our  salvation;  guide  us  with  thy  counsel, 
and  afterwards  receive  us  imto  glory,  for  the  merits  and 
intercession  of  thy  blessed  Son  our  Saviour."     Amen. 


]VI]VE   DISCOURSES 

ON 

IMPORTANT   SUBJECTS, 


THE     SUPERIOR    EXCELLENCY     OF     THE 
RELIGIOUS. 

PROV.  XII.  26. 

Tlie  righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his  neighbour. 

He  who  considereth  the  excellency  and  advantage  of 
piety  and  religion,  how  conformable  it  is  to  the  best 
principle  of  our  nature,  and  how  profitable  to  our 
interests,  may  just  wonder  and  be  surprised  at  the  bad 
entertainment  it  receives  in  the  world;  and  easily  con- 
clude, that  this  must  Aeeds  flow  from  some  gross  mis- 
takes about  it,  and  prejudices  against  it;  since  it  is  so 
natural  to  us  to  love  that  which  is  good,  and  delight 
in  that  which  is  amiable,  when  things  are  not  misrep- 
resented. 

Certainly  all  who  are  enemies  to  holiness,  have 
taken  up  false  measures  and  disadvantageous  notions 
of  it.  The  sensual  person  hateth  it  as  harsh  and  un- 
pleasant, doing  violence  to  his  carnal  appetites;  and 
looks  on  religion  as  a  contrivance  to  deprive  and  rob 
him  of  the  pleasures  of  this  world,  by  proposing  those  of 
another.  The  politic  wit  slights  it  as  foolish  and  im- 
prudent; and  though  he  acknowledges  it  a  necessary 
instrument  of  government,  a  good  device  to  overawe  a 
multitude,  yet  he  counts  a  great  weakness  to  be  further 
concerned  in  it  than  may  be  consistent  with;  and  aubv 


78  THE   SUPERIOR   EXCELLENCT 

sen-ient  to  secular  desig^iis.  Again,  the  gallants  of  our 
age  despise  it  as  a  base  ignoble  temper,  unworthy  of  a 
high  birth  and  genteel  education,  incident  to  meaner 
souls,  proceeding  from  cowardly  and  superstitious  fear, 
depressing  the  mind,  and  rendering  it  incapable  of  high 
and  aspiring  thoughts.  Hence  they  make  it  their  busi- 
ness to  pour  contempt  upon  piety,  and  advance  the 
reputation  of  those  vicious  courses  which  themselves 
have  embraced;  and  because  there  are  yet  some  left, 
who,  by  practising  and  recommending  virtue,  do  oppose 
and  condenni  tlieir  lewd  practices,  they  study  to  avenge 
themselves  on  them  by  the  persecution  of  their  tongues, 
and  all  the  scoffs  and  reproaches  they  can  invent  and 
utter:  which  hath  proved  a  mean  most  unhappily  suc- 
cessful to  deter  many  weak  minds  from  goodness,  ma- 
king them  choose  to  be  wicked  that  they  may  not  be 
laughed  at. 

It  is  to  discover  the  grossness  of  this  mistake,  and  ex- 
pose the  absurdities  and  unreasonableness  of  these  princi- 
ples and  practices;  to  vindicate  the  excellency  of  piety, 
and  to  recommend  it  to  all  truly  generous  souls,  that  we 
have  made  choice  of  this  text,  which  tells  us  in  short 
and  plain  terms,  that  the  righteous  is  more  excellent 
than  his  neighbour. 

None  can  be  so  little  acquainted  with  the  scripture 
dialect,  as  not  to  know,  that  though  righteousness  in 
its  truest  acceptation  importeth  only  the  observation  of 
those  duties  we  owe  our  neighbour,  yet  it  is  usually 
taken  more  largely  for  piety  and  virtue  in  general. 
And  good  reason  too,  since  there  is  no  part  of  our  duty 
but  we  owe  it  as  a  debt  unto  God;  no  exercise  of  religion 
but  it  is  an  act  of  justice:  whence  the  clear  importance 
of  the  text  is,  that  whatever  excellency  other  persons 
may  pretend  to,  the  pious  and  religious  men  are  the 
truly  noble  and  generous  persons  in  the  world;  as  the 
Pscdmist  expresseth  it.  The  saints  are  excellent  ones 
in  the  earth. 

Now,  we  shall  not  trouble  you  with  any  further  ex- 
plication of  the  words,  which  are  so  clear,  or  with  any 
4ivision  of  a  proposition  so  simple:    but  yhall  illustrate 


OF    THE    RELIGIOUS,  79 

and  confirm  the  assertion,  by  producing  such  undoubted 
evidences  of  nobleness  and  excellency,  as  are  proper  to 
godliness,  and  to  those  who  practise  it:  where  we  may 
have  occasion  to  hint  at  such  characters  of  a  pious  man, 
as,  besides  the  general  design,  may  perhaps  serve  to 
put  us  in  mind  of  some  parts  of  our  duty  which  we  are 
not  so  careful  to  observe;  and  which  therefore  may  be 
useful  even  to  those  who  have  already  embraced  the 
practice  of  religion. 

Being  to  speak  of  the  nobleness  and  excellency  of 
religion,  it  may  be  expected  we  should  say  something  of 
its  origin  and  extract;  that  being  the  whole  of  nobility 
which  some  understand,  and  others  pretend  to.  We 
might  take  occasion  to  discover  the  folly  of  glorying  in 
the  antiquity  of  an  illustrious  house,  or  the  famed  virtue 
of  worthy  ancestors,  who,  perhaps,  were  they  alive, 
would  disown  their  degenerate  progeny.  But  I  shall 
not  insist  upon  this;  it  is  a  vanity  which  hath  been 
chastised  sulhciently  even  by  Heathen  pens.  Nay,  we 
shall  so  far  comply  with  the  common  sentiments  of  the 
world,  as  to  acknowledge,  that  high  birth  and  liberal  ed- 
ucation may  contribute  much  to  elevate  the  minds  of 
men,  and  accustom  them  to  great  thoughts.  But  sure, 
whatever  advantages  any  may  pretend  to  by  their  birth, 
there  are  none  to  be  preferred  to  the  children  of  God, 
the  blood-royal  of  heaven,  the  brethren  of  Christ;  of 
whom  we  may  say,  that  as  he  is,  so  are  they,  each  one 
resembling  the  son  of  a  king. 

If  we  trace  the  lines  of  earthly  extraction,  we  shall 
find  them  all  meet  in  one  point;  all  terminate  in  dust  and 
earth.  But  in  the  heraldry  of  heaven  we  shall  find  a  two- 
fold pedigree.  Sin  is  the  offspring  of  hell,  and  wicked 
men  are  of  their  father  the  devil  whose  work  they  per- 
form. On  the  other  hand,  holiness  is  the  seed  of  God, 
and  the  saints  have  obtained  to  be  called  the  sons  of  the 
Most  High.  And  think  not  these  are  empty  titles,  and 
big  words,  to  amuse  the  world;  no,  they  are  equally  just 
and  important.  Pious  men  are  really  partakers  of  the 
divin-e  nature,  and  shall  obtain  an  interest  in  the  inheri- 
tance which  is  entailed  on  that  relation,     Never  were  the 


90        VHE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY 

qualities  of  a  parent  more  really  derived  unto  their  chil- 
dren, than  the  image  and  similitude  of  the  divine  excel- 
lencies are  stamped  upon  these  heaven-born  souls:  some 
beams  of  that  eternal  light  are  darted  in  upon  them,  and 
make  them  shine  with  an  eminent  splendour;  and  they 
are  always  aspiring  to  a  nearer  conformity  with  him,  still 
breathing  after  a  further  communication  of  his  Holy 
Spirit,  and  daily  finding  the  power  thereof  correcting  the 
ruder  deformities  of  their  natures,  and  superinducing  the 
beautiful  delineations  of  God's  image  upon  them,  that 
any  who  observe  them  may  perceive  their  relation  to 
God,  by  the  excellency  of  their  deportment  in  the  world; 
as  will  clearly   appear  in  the  sequel   of  our  discourse. 

Having  spoken  of  the  righteous  or  godly  man's  excel- 
lency, in  regard  of  his  birth  and  extraction,  we  proceed 
to  consider  his  qualities  and  endowments;  and  shall  be- 
gin with  those  of  his  understanding,  his  knowledge  and 
wisdom.  The  wise  man  tells  us,  that  a  man  of  un- 
derstanding  is  of  an  excellent  spirit.  And  sure,  if 
any  man  in  the  world  is  to  be  accounted  of  for  knowl- 
edge, it  is  the  pious  man.  His  knowledge  is  conversant 
about  the  noblest  objects;  he  contemplates  that  infinite 
being,  whose  perfections  can  never  enough  be  admired, 
but  still  afford  new  matter  to  astonish  and  delight  him; 
to  ravish  his  affections,  to  raise  his  wonder.  He  studies 
the  law  of  God,  which  maketh  him  wiser  than  all 
his  teachers.  As  the  reverend  Dr.  Tillotson  liath  it, 
"  It  is  deservedly  accounted  an  excellent  piece  of 
knowledge,  to  understand  the  laws  of  the  land,  the  cus- 
toms of  the  country  we  live  in;  how  much  more  to  know 
the  statutes  of  heaven,  the  eternal  laws  of  righteousness, 
the  will  of  the  universal  monarch,  and  the  customs  of 
that  country  where  we  hope  to  live  for  ever."  And, 
if  we  have  a  mind  to  the  studies  of  nature  and  human 
science,  he  is  best  disposed  for  it,  having  his  faculties 
cleared,  and  his  understanding  heightened  by  divine  con- 
templations. 

But  his  knowledge  doth  not  rest  in  speculations,  but 
directeth  his  practice,  and  determineth  his  choice.  And 
he  is  the  most  prudent  as  well  as  the  most  knowing  per- 


OF    THE    EELIGIOUS.  81 

Bon.  lie  knows  bow  to  secure  his  greatest  interest;  to 
provide  for  the  longest  Ufe;  to  prefer  solid  pleasures  to 
gilded  trifles;  the  soul  to  the  body;  eternity  to  a  moment. 
He  knoweth  the  temper  of  his  own  spirit;  he  can  mod- 
erate liis  passions,  and  overade  his  carnal  appetites; 
which  certainly  is  a  far  more  important  piece  of  wisdom, 
than  to  understand  the  intrigues  of  a  state;  to  fathom  the 
councils  of  princes;  to  know  the  pulse  of  a  people,  or 
balance  the  interest  of  kingdoms.  Yea,  piety  doth 
heighten  and  advance  even  moral  pradence  itself;  both 
obliging  and  directing  a  man  to  order  his  affairs  with 
discretion:  it  maketh  the  simple  wise.  And  what  was 
said  by  holy  David,  and  twice  repeated  by  his  wise  son, 
will  hold  good  in  every  man's  appearance,  that  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beghining  of  wisdom.  And 
thus  much  of  the  knowledge  and  wisdom  wherein  the 
righteous  man  excelleth  his  neighbour. 

We  proceed  to  another  of  his  endowments,  the  great- 
ness of  his  mind,  and  his  contempt  of  the  world.  We 
can  never  take  better  measures  of  a  man's  spirit  than 
from  the  things  he  delighteth  in,  and  sets  his  heart  up- 
on: Qualis  amor,  talis  animus.  To  be  taken  up  with 
trifles,  and  concerned  in  little  things,  is  an  evidence  of 
a  weak  and  naughty  mind.  And  so  are  all  wicked  and 
irreligious  persons:  their  thoughts  are  confined  to  low 
and  mean  things;  designs  of  scraping  together  money,  or 
spending  it  in  luxury;  or  of  satisfying  a  passion  or  plea- 
sing a  lust;  of  obtaining  the  favour  of  great  ones  or  the 
applause  of  the  vulgar.  The  greatest  happiness  they 
aim  at,  is,  to  be  master  of  the  country  where  they  live, 
to  dwell  in  stately  houses,  and  to  be  backed  with  a  train 
of  attendants;  to  lie  softly,  and  fare  deliciously,  and 
such  like  attainments;  which  a  wise  man  would  think 
himself  unhappy  if  he  could  not  despise. 

But  the  pious  person  hath  his  thoughts  far  above  these 
painted  vanities;  his  felicity  is  not  patched  up  of  so  mean 
shreds;  it  is  simple  and  comprised  in  one  chief  good: 
his  soul  advanceth  itself  by  rational  passions  towards  the 
author  of  its  being,  the  fountain  of  goodness  and  pleasure; 


82        THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY 

He  hath  none  in  heaven  but  him;  and  there  is  none  up- 
on earth  whom  he  desires  beside  him. 

The  knowledge  of  nature  hath  been  reputed  a  good 
mean  to  enlarge  the  soul,  and  breed  in  it  a  contempt  of 
earthly  enjoyments.  He  that  hath  accustomed  himself 
to  consider  the  vastness  of  the  universe,  and  the  small 
proportion  which  the  point  we  live  in  bears  to  the  rest 
of  the  world,  may  perhaps  come  to  think  less  of  the 
possessions  of  some  acres,  or  of  that  fame  which  can  at 
most  spread  itself  through  a  small  corner  of  this  earth. 
Whatever  be  in  this,  sure  I  am  that  the  knowledge  of 
God,  and  the  frequent  thoughts  of  heaven,  must  needs 
prove  far  more  effectual  to  elevate  and  aggrandize  the 
mind.  When  once  the  soul  by  contemplation  is  raised 
to  any  right  apprehension  of  the  divine  perfections,  and 
the  foretastes  of  celestial  bliss,  how  will  this  world,  and 
all  that  is  in  it,  vanish  and  disappear  before  his  eyes.' 
with  what  holy  disdain  will  he  look  down  upon  things, 
which  are  the  highest  objects  of  other  men's  ambitious 
desires?  All  the  splendour  of  courts,  all  the  pageantry 
of  greatness,  will  no  more  dazzle  his  eyes,  than  the  faint 
lustre  of  a  glow-worm  will  trouble  the  eagle,  after  it 
hath  been  beholding  the  sun.  He  is  little  concerned 
who  obtained  this  dign'ty,  or  that  fortune;  who  sits  high- 
est at  table  or  goes  first  out  of  the  door.  His  thoughts 
are  taken  up  with  greater  matters;  how  he  shall  please 
his  Maker,  and  obtain  an  interest  in  that  land  of  prom- 
L^^e,  some  of  the  fruits  whereof  he  hath  already  tasted. 
And  from  thence  ariseth  that  constant  and  equal  frame 
of  spirit,  which  the  pious  man's  mind  maintains  in  all  the 
changes  and  vicissitudes  of  things;  while  he  who  h.ith 
not  his  spirit  balanced  with  religious  principles,  is  lift 
up  and  cast  down  like  a  ship  on  the  sea,  with  every 
variation  of  fortune,  and  partakes  perhaps  of  all  the 
motions  of  this  inferior  world,  whereunto  his  heart  and 
affections  are  fastened.  And  certainly  he  must  be  far 
more  happy  and  generous  both,  who  sitteth  loose  to  the 
world,  and  can  with  the  greatest  calmness  and  tranquil 
lity  possess  his  own  soul,  while  all  things  without  are 


OF  THE    RELIGIOUS.  83 

hurry  and  confusion.  Private  disasters  cannot  discom- 
pose him,  nor  public  calamities  reach  him;  he  looks  up- 
on the  troubles  and  combustions  of  the  world,  as  men 
do  on  the  ruin  and  desolation  of  cities  wherein  them- 
selves have  little  interest,  with  no  other  concernment 
than  that  of  pity,  to  see  men  trouble  themselves  and 
others  to  so  little  purpose.  Si  fractus  illahatur 
orhis:  If  the  world  should  shake  and  the  foundations  of 
the  earth  be  removed;  yet  would  he  rest  secure  in  a 
full  acquiescence  to  the  will  of  God,  and  confident  de- 
pendence on  his  providence:  He  shall  not  be  afraid  of 
evil  tidings:  and  his  heart  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord. 
And  this,  by  the  affinity,  will  lead  us  to  another  en- 
dowment, wherein  the  excellency  of  the  righteous  man 
doth  appear;  and  that  is,  that  heroic  magnanimity  and 
courage  wherein  he  is  inspired,  and  which  makes  him 
confidently  achieve  the  most  difficult  actions,  and  re- 
solutely undergo  the  hardest  sufferings  that  he  is  called 
to.  .  For  this  see  the  epistle  to  the  Hebreias,  chap.  xi.  v. 
33.  Through  faith  some  have  subdued  kingdoms ;  this 
was  their  active  courage;  ver.  35.  Others  again  were 
tortured,  &c.  this  was  their  passive  courage;  which  in 
Christians  is  most  eminent  and  useful.  True  valour  doth 
more  appear  by  suffering  than  by  doing;  and  doubtless 
this  is  the  hardest  trial  of  the  two.  Were  it  not  for  suf- 
fering hardships,  the  greatest  coward  in  the  world  would 
be  man  enough  for  the  highest  enterprises.  It  is  not  so 
much  the  difficulty  of  great  actions,  as  the  danger  that 
attends  them,  which  makes  men  fear  to  undertake  them: 
so  that  to  suffer  cheerfully  must  be  the  greatest  proof  of 
courage.  And  sure,  we  may  appeal  to  the  world  to  pro- 
duce such  eminent  instances  of  fortitude  and  resolution, 
as  Christian  martyrs  have  shown  under  those  torments 
which  cannot  be  mentioned  without  horror.  How  often 
hath  their  constancy  amazed  their  bloody  persecutors 
and  outvvearied  the  cruelties  of  their  tormentors!  Nor 
w;is  this  patience  perforce:  they  might  have  saved  them- 
selves that  trouble,  by  throwing  a  little  incense  into  the 
fii-e,  or  speaking  a  few  blasphemous  words;  but  well  had 
they  learned  not  to  fear  those  who  can  kill  the  body. 


84         THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY 

&c.  Nor  were  they  borne  out  by  an  obstinate  humour, 
and  perverse  stoical  vvilfubiess:  they  were  neither  stu- 
pid and  insensible,  nor  proud  and  self-conceited:  but 
their  sufferings  were  undertaken  with  calmness,  and 
sustained  with  moderation. 

'  Let  Heathen  Rome  boast  of  a  Regulus,  a  Decius, 
of  some  two  or  three  more,  stimulated  by  a  desire  of 
glory,  and  perhaps  animated  by  some  secret  hopes  of 
future  reward,  who  have  devoted  their  life  to  the  service 
of  their  country.  But  alas!  what  is  this  to  an  infinite 
number,  not  only  of  men  but  even  of  women  and  chil- 
dren, who  have  died  for  the  profession  of  their  faith; 
neither  seeking  or  expecting  any  praise  from  men? 
And  tell  me  who  among  the  heathen  did  willingly  en- 
dure the  loss  of  reputation?  Nay,  that  was  their  idol, 
and  they  could  not  part  with  it.  And  certainly  it  is 
great  meanness  of  spirit,  to  be  overawed  with  fear  of 
disgrace,  and  depend  upon  the  thoughts  of  the  people. 
True  courage  doth  equally  fortify  the  mind  against  all 
those  evils,  and  will  make  a  man  hazard  his  honour,  as 
well  as  other  thhigs,  when  occasion  calls  for  it. 

Now,  if  the  celebrated  actions  of  the  Heathens  come 
short  of  tme  courage,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  furioug 
boldness  of  the  Hectors  of  our  age,  who  pretend  to  prow- 
ess and  gallantry  by  far  less  reasonable  methods?  when, 
blinded  with  passion,  and  animated  wnth  wine,  they  are 
ready  enough,  on  half  a  quarrel,  to  hazard  their  own 
and  their  neighbour's  life,  and  soul  too,  in  a  duel?  yea, 
they  will  not  stand  to  brave  heaven  itself,  and  provoke 
the  Almighty  by  their  horrid  oaths  and  blasphemies. 
And  one  should  think,  that  these  must  needs  be  the 
hardiest  and  most  valiant  people  in  the  world;  if  they 
are  not  afraid  of  the  Almighty,  sure  nothing  else  should 
fright  them.  And  yet  you  shall  find  these  very  persons, 
when  cast  on  a  bed  by  sickness,  or  brought  to  the  scaf- 
fold by  justice,  to  betray  a  miserable  faintness  and  pusil- 
lanimity: they  are  forced  now  to  think  on  the  terrors  of 
death,  and  the  more  terrible  consequences  of  h;  and  their 
counterfeit  courage,  being  destitute  of  those  props  which 
formerly  sustained  it,  doth  now  discover  its  weakness. 


OF    THE    RELIGIOUS^  85 

Nor  is  it  any  wonder:  for  what  should  make  a  man  wil- 
lingly leave  this  world,  unless  he  expected  a  more  happy 
condition  in  another?  Certainly  there  is  nothing  can  for- 
tify the  soul  with  a  true  and  manly  courage,  but  a  con- 
fidence in  God  and  hopes  of  future  blessedness.  The 
wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth;  but  the  right- 
eous is  bold  as  a  lion ;  and  from  that  accounted  more 
excellent  than   his  neighbour. 

From  courage  and  magnanimity  we  pass  to  that 
which  is  the  genuine  issue  and  ordinary  consequence 
of  it,  the  liberty  and  freedom  of  the  righteous  person. 
Liberty  is  a  privilege  so  highly  rated  by  all  men,  that 
many  run  the  greatest  hazards  for  the  very  name  of  it: 
but  there  are  few  that  enjoy  it.  I  shall  not  speak  of 
those  fetters  of  ceremony,  and  chains  of  state,  where- 
with great  men  are  tied;  which  makes  their  actions  con- 
strained, and  their  converse  uneasy:  this  is  more  to  be 
pitied  than  blamed.  But  wicked  and  irreligious  per- 
sons are  under  a  far  more  shameful  bondage:  they  are 
slaves  to  their  own  lusts,  and  sufier  the  violence  and 
tyranny  of  their  irregular  appetites.  This  is  frequently 
talked  of,  but  seldom  considered  or  believed;  and 
therefore  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  bring  an  instance  or 
two  for  the  illustration  of  it.  Observe  a  passionate 
man,  and  you  shall  find  him  frequently  transported  and 
overpowered  by  his  anger,  and  carried  to  those  extre- 
mities, of  which  a  little  time  makes  him  ashamed;  and 
he  becomes  as  much  displeased  with  himself,  as  formerly 
he  was  with  his  adversary:  and  yet  on  the  next  occasion, 
he  will  obey  that  same  passion  which  he  hath  condem- 
ned. What  a  drudge  is  a  covetous  man  to  his  riches, 
which  takes  up  his  thoughts  all  the  day  long,  and  break 
his  sleep  in  the  night?  How  mixst  the  ambitious  man 
fawn  and  flatter,  and  cross  his  humour  with  hopes  to 
satisfy  it;  stoop  to  the  ground  that  he  may  aspire, 
courting  and  caressing  those  whom  he  hates;  which, 
doubtless,  is  done  with  a  great  violence  and  constraint. 
The  drunkard,  when  he  awakes  and  hath  slept  out  his 
cups  and  his  frolic  humour,  and  finds  his  head  aching. 


86        THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY 

his  stomach  qualmish,  and  perhaps  his  purse  empty^ 
and  reflects  on  the  folly  and  unhandsome  expressions 
or  actions  he  may  have  fallen  into  in  his  drink,  how  will 
he  condemn  himself  for  that  excess?  what  harangues 
shall  we  have  from  him  in  the  praise  of  temperance  1 
•what  promises  and  resolutions  of  future  sobriety!  and 
yet,  on  the  next  occasion,  the  poor  slave  shall  be  drag- 
ged away  to  the  tavern  by  those  whom  he  must  call 
his  friends;  and  thank  them  who  put  that  abuse  upon 
him,  which  a  wdse  and  sober  person  will  rather  die  than 
suffer.  Further,  the  luxurious  would  fain  preserve  or 
recover  his  health;  and  to  this  end  finds  it  requisite  to 
keep  a  temperate  and  sober  diet.  No ;  but  he  njust  not. 
He  is  present  at  a  feast,  and  his  superior  appetite  calls 
for  a  large  measure  of  delicious  fare;  and  his  palate 
must  be  pleased,  though  the  whole  body  should  suffer 
for  it:  or  he  hath  met  with  a  lewd  woman;  and  though 
his  whole  bones  should  rot,  and  a  dart  stril^e  through 
his  liver,  yet  must  he  obey  the  command  of  his  lusts: 
He  goeth  after  her  straightway,  as  the  ox  goeth  to  the 
slaughter,  or  as  a  fool  to  the  correction  of  the  stocks. 
Now,  there  can  be  no  greater  evidence  of  slavery  and 
bondage,  than  thus  to  do  what  themselves  know  to  be 
prejudicial.  It  were  easy  to  illustrate  this  bondage  and 
thraldom  of  the  soul,  in  all  the  other  instances  of  vice 
and  impiety:  And  certainly  what  St.  Peter  saith  of 
some  false  teachers,  may  be  well  applied  to  all  wicked 
persons:  while  they  promised  freedom,  they  themselves 
are  the  servants  of  con-uption:  for  of  whom  a  man  is 
overcome,  of  the  same  is  he  brought  in  bondage. 

But  the  holy  and  religious  person  hath  broken  these 
fetters;  cast  off  the  yoke  of  sin,  and  become  the  free- 
man of  the  Lord.  It  is  religion  that  restores  freedom 
to  the  soul  which  philosophy  did  pretend  to:  it  is  that 
which  doth  sway  and  moderate  all  those  blind  passions 
and  impetuous  affections,  which  else  would  hinder  a 
man  from  the  possession  and  enjoymer.l  of  himself;  and 
makes  him  master  of  his  own  thoughts,  motions,  and 
desires,  that  he  may  do  with  freedom  what  he  judgcth 


OF    THE    R-ELICIOUS.  87 

most  honest  and  convenient.  And  thus  the  righteous 
man  excelleth  his  neighbour,  as  much  as  a  freeman 
doth  the  basest  slave. 

Another  particular,  wherein  the  nobleness  and  excel- 
lency of  religion  doth  appear,  is  in  a  charitable  and  be- 
nign temper.  There  is  no  greater  evidence  of  a  base 
and  narrow  soul,  than  for  a  man  to  have  all  his  thoughts 
taken  up  with  private  and  selfish  mterest;  and  so,  if  they 
be  well,  not  to  care  what  becometh  of  the  rest  of  the 
world.  On  the  other  hand,  an  extensive  charity  and 
kindness,  as  it  is  the  one  half  of  our  religion,  so  it  is  an 
eminent  point  of  generosity.  The  righteous  is  gracious, 
and  full  of  compassion;  he  showeth  favour  and  lendeth; 
and  makes  it  his  work  to  serve  mankind  as  much  as  he 
is  able.  His  bounty  is  not  confined  to  his  kindred  and 
relations,  to  those  of  his  own  party  and  mode  of  reli- 
gion: this  were  but  a  disguised  kind  of  self-love.  It  is 
enough  to  him  that  they  are  christians;  or,  if  they  were 
not,  yet  are  they  men;  and  therefore  deserve  our  pity, 
but  not  our  hatred  or  neglect,  because  of  their  errors. 
It  is  true,  he  carries  a  special  kindness  for  those  in 
whom  he  discovers  a  principle  of  goodness  and  virtue; 
in  those  excellent  ones  is  all  his  delight.  But  then  he 
doth  not  take  his  measure  so  much  from  their  judgment 
and  opinions,  as  from  the  integrity  of  their  life,  and  ex- 
actness of  their  practices. 

His  charity  doth  not  express  itself  in  one  particular 
instance,  as  that  of  giving  alms;  but  is  vented  as  many 
ways  as  the  variety  of  occasions  do  call  for,  and  his 
power  can  reach  to.  He  assisteth  the  poor  with  his 
money ;  the  ignorant  with  his  counsel ;  the  afiiicted  with 
his  comfort;  the  sick  with  the  best  of  his  skill:  all  with 
his  blessings  and  prayers.  If  he  cannot  build  hospitals, 
yet  he  will  study  to  persuade  those  who  can:  if  he  hath 
no  money  to  redeem  captives,  yet  will  he  employ  his 
interest  in  the  court  of  heaven  for  their  deliverance: 
though  he  cannot  recover  a  dying  child  to  the  afflicted  pa- 
rents, yet  will  he  endeavour  to  persuade  them  to  submis- 
sion and  resignation,  which  will  render  them  more  hap- 
py; and  will  go  hard,  but  he  will  find  some  way,  either 


88         THE  SUPEHIOR  EXCELLENCY 

to  benefit  or  oblige  every  man  with  whom  he  convers- 
eth.  Let  no  man  upbraid  us  with  the  contrary  prac- 
tices of  many  high  pretenders  to  religion,  who  are 
notedly  selfish  and  churlish  persons.  We  are  not  to 
defend  the  actions  of  all  who  would  be  thought  godly; 
nor  must  you  take  your  measures  of  piety  from  what 
you  observe  in  them.  But  look  through  the  gospel,  and 
you  shall  find  charity  and  bounty  so  passionately  re- 
commended, so  frequently  inculcated,  and  so  indispen- 
sably required,  that  you  may  easily  conclude  there  are 
no  christians  in  earnest,  but  those  who  practise  it. 
Yea,  so  peculiar  is  this  liberal  and  benign  temper  to 
holy  and  religious  persons,  that  nothing  but  a  faint  re- 
semblance and  false  imitation  is  to  be  found  elsewhere 
in  the  world.  Other  men's  seeming  bounty  is  always 
marred  by  the  base  principle  it  proceeds  from,  and  sel- 
fish end  it  tends  to.  The  Apostle  hath  told  us,  that  a 
man  may  give  all  his  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  yet 
want  charity;  and  all  these  expenses  shall  profit  him 
nothing.  Importunity  may  perhaps  wring  something 
out  of  his  pocket,  or  a  willingness  to  be  delivered  from 
the  trouble  of  a  miserable  spectacle,  but  vanity  and  a 
desire  of  applause,  have  usually  the  greatest  interest  in 
his  distributions.  This  made  the  hypocrites  of  old  pro- 
claim their  alms  with  trumpets;  and  this  makes  their 
successors  in  our  times  delight  to  have  their  good  works 
of  this  kind  recorded  to  the  greatest  advantage,  that 
posterity  may  read  them  on  walls  and  public  registers. 
To  the  same  principle  must  we  refer  what  in  the 
world  passeth  for  a  very  considerable  instance  of  gen- 
erosity, the  keeping  of  a  great  house  and  well  furnish- 
ed  table:  which  nevertheless  is  more  ordinarily  the 
effect  of  pride  and  vain  glory,  than  of  humility  or  hos- 
pitality. It  is  a  part  of  their  splendour  and  state;  and 
they  deck  their  tables  for  the  same  end  that  they  put 
on  fine  clothes,  to  be  talked  of  and  admired  in  tbe 
world.  You  may  guess  it  by  the  persons  wliom  they 
entertain;  who  are  usually  such  as  need  least  of  their 
charity,  and  for  whom  they  have  many  times  as  little 
lunduess   or    coucerumeut,    as   an    innkeeper   for   liis 


OF    THE    RELIGIOUS.  39 

guests;  nor  are  they  less  mercenary  than  he;  the  one 
sells  his  meat  for  money,  the  other  for  praise.  Far 
more  generous  is  the  practice  of  the  pious  man;  who,  as 
he  chooseth  most  to  benefit  those  who  can  make  him  no 
recompense,  so  he  doth  not  trouble  the  world  with  the 
noise  of  his  charity;  yea,  his  left  hand  knoweth  not 
what  his  right  hand  bestoweth:  and  that  which  doth 
most  endear  his  bounty,  is  the  love  and  affection 
whence  it  proceeds. 

We  shall  name  but  one  instance  more  wherein  the 
righteous  man  excelleth  his  neighbour;  and  that  is,  his 
venerable  temperance  and  purity.  He  hath  risen 
above  the  vaporous  sphere  of  sensual  pleasure,  which 
darkeneth  and  debaseth  the  mind,  which  sullies  its 
lustre,  and  abates  its  native  vigour;  while  profane 
persons,  wallowing  in  impure  lusts,  do  sink  them- 
selves below  the  condition  of  men.  Can  there  be  any 
spark  of  generosity,  any  degree  of  excellency  in  him 
who  makes  his  belly  his  god,  or  places  his  felicity  in 
the  embraces  of  a  strumpet?  We  spoke  before  of  the 
slavery,  we  speak  now  of  the  deformity  of  these  sins: 
and  shall  add,  that  one  of  the  most  shameful  and  mis- 
erable spectacles  in  the  world,  is,  to  see  a  man  born  to 
the  use  of  reason,  and  perhaps  to  an  eminent  fortune, 
drink  away  his  religion,  his  reason,  his  sense;  and  so 
expose  himself  to  the  pity  of  wise  men,  the  contempt 
of  his  own  servants,  the  derision  of  his  children, — and 
fools  to  every  danger,  and  to  every  snare;  and  that 
this  must  pass  in  the  eyes  of  many  for  a  piece  of  gal- 
lantry, and  necessary  accomplishment  of  a  gentle- 
man. Good  God!  how  are  the  minds  of  men  poisoned 
with  perverse  notions?  what  unreasonable  measures  do 
they  take  of  things?  We  may  expect  next  they  shall 
commend  theft,  and  make  harangues  to  the  praise  of 
parricide;  for  they  are  daily  advancing  the  boldness  of 
their  impieties,  and  with  confidence  avowing  them. 
Other  ages  have  practised  wickedness;  but  to  ours  is 
reserved  the  impudence  to  glory  in  them.  But  would 
men  bat  open  their  own  eyes,  and  give  way  to  the 
sentiments  of  there  own  minds,  they  would  soon  alter 
8* 


90         THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY 

their  maxims,  aiwi  discover  the  miserable  deformity  of 
vice,  and  the  amiable  beauty  and  majesty  of  religion; 
that  it  doth  at  once  adorn  and  advance  the  human 
nature,  and  hath  in  it  every  thing  generous  and  noble, 
cheerful  and  spiritual,  free  and  ingenuous;  in  a  word, 
that  the  righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his   neigtoour. 

Before  we  proceed  further,  it  will  be  necessary  to  take 
off  some  prejudices  and  objections  that  arise  against  the 
nobleness  and  excellency  of  religion.  And  the  first  is, 
That  it  enjoineth  lowliness  and  humility;  which  men 
ordinarily  look  upon  as  an  abject  and  base  disposition. 
What,  will  they  say,  can  ever  that  man  aspire  to  any 
tiling  that  is  excellent,  whose  principles  oblige  him  to 
lie  low  and  grovel  on  the  ground;  who  thinks  nothing  of 
himself,  and  is  content  that  all  the  world  think  nothing 
of  him?  Is  this  a  disposhion  fit  for  any  but  those  whose 
cross  fortune  obliged  them  to  suffer  miseries  and  affronts? 
Such  are  men's  thoughts  of  humility,  which  God  loves 
so  mnch,  that  we  may  say  he  sent  his  own  Son  from 
heaven  to  teach  and  recommend  it.  But  if  we  ponder 
the  matter,  we  shall  find,  that  arrogance  and  pride  are 
the  issues  of  base  and  silly  minds,  a  giddiness  incident 
to  those  who  are  raised  suddenly  to  unaccustomed 
height;  nor  is  there  any  vice  doth  more  palpably  defeat 
its  own  design,  depriving  a  man  of  that  honour  and  rep- 
utation which  it  makes  him  aim  at. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  shall  find  humility  no  silly  and 
sneaking  quality;  but  the  greatest  height  and  sublimity 
of  the  mind,  and  the  only  way  to  true  honour:  Before 
destruction  the  heart  of  man  is  haughty,  and  before  hon- 
our is  humility.  Lowliness  is  the  endowment  of  high- 
born and  well-educated  souls,  who  are  acquainted  with 
the  knowledge  of  excellent  things;  and  therefore  do  not 
doat  upon  trifles,  or  admire  little  things  merely  because 
they  are  their  own.  They  have  no  such  high  opinion 
of  riches,  beauty,  strength,  or  other  the  like  advantages, 
as  to  value  themselves  for  them,  or  to  despise  those  who 
want  them:  but  they  study  to  surmount  themselves,  and 
all  the  little  attainments  they  have  hitherto  reached,  and 
are  still  aspiring  to  higher  and  more  noblo  things,     Aiii 


OF    THE    RELIGIOUS.  91 

h  Is  worth  our  notice,  "  that  the  most  deep  and  pure  hu- 
milrty  doth  not  so  much  arise  from  the  consideration  of 
our  faults  and  defects,  (though  that  also  may  have  its 
own  place,)  as  from  a  calm  contemplation  of  the  divine 
perfections.  By  reflecting  on  ourselves,  we  may  dis- 
cover something  of  our  own  sinfulness  and  misery;  and 
thereby  be  filled  with  a  kind  of  boisterous  and  turbulent 
grief  and  indignation:  but,  by  fixing  our  eyes  on  the  in- 
finite greatness  and  holiness  of  God,  we  are  most  fully 
convinced  of  our  own  meanness.  This  will  sink  us  to 
the  very  bottom  of  our  beings,  and  make  us  appear  as 
nothing  in  our  own  sight,  when  beheld  from  so  great  a 
height."  And  this  is  really  the  greatest  elevation  of 
the  soul;  and  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  so  noble 
and  excellent  as  the  sublimity  of  humble  minds. 

Another  objection  against  the  excellency  of  a  religious 
temper,  is,  Thai  the  love  of  enemies,  and  pardon  of  inju- 
ries, which  it  includeth,  is  utterly  inconsistent  with  the 
principles  of  honour.  Now,  though  it  be  highly  unreas- 
onable to  examine  the  laws  of  our  Saviour  by  such  nales 
as  this,  yet  we  shall  consider  the  matter  a  little.  Nor 
shall  we  seek  to  elude  or  qualify  this  precept,  as  some 
do,  by  such  glosses  and  evasions  as  may  suit  with  their 
own  practices:  nay,  we  shall  freely  profess,  that  there 
is  no  salvation  without  the  observation  of  it.  A  man 
had  even  as  well  abandon  Christianity,  and  renounce  his 
baptism,  as  obstinately  refuse  to  obey  it.  But  if  we 
have  any  value  for  the  judgment  of  the  wisest  man  and 
a  great  king,  he  will  tell  us,  that  it  is  the  honour  of  man 
to  cease  from  strife;  and  he  that  is  slow  to  wrath,  is  of 
great  understanding.  The  meek  and  lowly  person 
liveth  above  the  reach  of  petty  injuries;  and  blunts  the 
edge  of  the  greatest  by  his  patience  and  constancy;  and 
hath  compassion  towards  those  who  offend  him:  being 
more  sorry  for  the  prejudice  they  do  themselves,  than 
for  that  which  they  intended  him.  And  let  all  the  world 
judge  whether  it  be  more  generous  to  pity  and  love  even 
those  who  hate  us,  and  to  pardon  the  greatest  offences, 
than  peevishly  to  quarrel  on  every  petty  occasion,  and 
malvb  5nea  iear  our  passion,  hate  our  humour,  and  aban- 


02  THE  SUPERIOR  EXCELLENCY 

don  our  society?  So  that  what  is  here  brought  as  an  ob- 
jection against  religion,  might  with  reason  enough  have 
been  brought  as  an  instance  of  its  nobleness. 

Having  thus  illustrated  and  confirmed  what  is  asserted 
in  the  text,  that  the  righteous  is  more  excellent  than  his 
neighbour;  let  us  improve  it  as  a  check  to  that  profane 
and  atheistical  spirit  of  drollery  and  scoffing  at  religion, 
which  hath  got  abroad  in  the  world.  Alas!  do  men 
consider  what  it  is  which  they  m.ake  the  butt  of  their 
scoffs  and  reproaches?  Have  they  nothing  else  to  exer- 
cise their  wit  and  vent  their  jests  upon,  but  that  which 
is  the  most  noble  and  excellent  thing  in  the  world? 
What  design  can  they  propose  unto  themselves  by  this 
kind  of  impiety?  Would  they  have  religion  banished 
from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  forced  to  retire  for  shame? 
What  a  goodly  world  should  we  then  have  of  it!  what  a 
fine  harmony  and  order  of  things!  Certainly  the  earth 
would  then  become  a  kind  of  hell,  with  tumults  and  se- 
ditions, rapines  and  murders,  secret  malice,  and  open 
frauds,  by  every  vice  and  every  calamity.  'Tis  only 
some  little  remainders  of  piety  and  virtue  in  the  world 
that  keep  it  in  any  tolerable  condition,  or  make  it  possi- 
ble to  be  inhabited.  And  must  not  those  be  wretched 
persons,  and  woful  enemies  to  mankind,  who  do  what 
they  can  to  reduce  the  world  to  such  a  miserable  condi- 
tion? But  let  them  do  what  they  will;  they  but  kick 
against  the  pricks.  Religion  hath  so  much  native  lustre 
and  beauty,  that,  notwithstanding  all  the  dirt  thev  study 
to  cast  upon  it;  all  the  melancholy  and  deformed  shapes 
they  dress  it  in,  it  will  attract  the  eyes  and  admiration  of 
all  sober  and  ingenuous  persons:  and  while  these  men 
study  to  make  it  ridiculous,  they  shall  but  make  them- 
selves so.  And  O!  that  they  would  consider  how  dear 
they  are  to  pay  for  those  dull  and  insipid  jests  where- 
with they  persecute  religion,  and  those  who  practise  it  or 
recommend  it!  what  thoughts  they  are  like  to  have  of 
them  when  sickness  shall  arrest,  and  death  threaten 
them,  when  the  p^iysicians  shall  have  forsaken  them,  and 
the  poor  despised  minister  is  called  in,  and  they  expect- 
ing comfort  from  him  they  were  wont  to  mock,  and  per- 


OF    THE    RELIGIOUS.  93 

haps  it  is  little  he  can  afford  them.  O  that  they  were 
wise,  and  understood  this,  that  they  would  consider  their 
latter  end! 

There  are  others  who  have  not  yet  arrived  to  this 
height  of  profaneness,  to  laugh  at  all  religion;  but  do 
vent  their  malice  at  those  who  are  more  conscientious 
and  severe  than  themselves,  under  presumption  that  they 
are  hypocrites  and  dissemblers.  But  besides  that  in  this 
they  may  be  guilty  of  a  great  deal  of  uncharitableness, 
it  is  to  be  suspected  that  they  bear  some  secret  dislike  to 
piety  itself,  and  hate  hypocrisy  more  for  its  resemblance 
of  that,  than  for  its  own  viciousness;  otherwise  whence 
comes  it  that  they  do  not  express  the  same  animosity 
against  other  vices? 

Hitherto  also  may  we  refer  those  expressions  which 
sometimes  drop  from  persons  not  so  utterly  debauched, 
but  which  yet  are  blasphemous  and  profane;  that  this 
man  is  too  holy,  and  that  man  too  religious,  as  if  it 
were  possible  to  exceed  in  these  things.  What!  can  a 
man  approach  too  near  to  God?  Can  he  be  too  like  his 
maker?  Is  it  possible  to  be  over-perfect  or  over-happy? 
I  confess  a  man  may  overact  some  parts  of  religion, 
and  be  too  much  in  some  particular  exercises  of  it,  neg- 
lecting other  as  necessary  duties.  But  this  is  not  an  ex- 
cess of  piety,  but  a  defect  of  discretion.  And  reason 
would  teach  us  rather  to  pardon  men's  infirmities  for 
their  pious  inclinations,  than  to  blame  piety  for  their  in- 
firmities. 

Let  me  therefore  entreat  you  all,  especially  those 
whose  birth  and  fortunes  render  them  more  conspicuous 
in  the  world,  to  countenance  holiness,  which  you  see  is 
so  excellent;  and  beware  that  you  do  not  contribute  to 
that  deluge  of  wickedness  that  overfloweth  the  earth, 
by  scotfing  at  the  most  serious  things  in  the  world. 
And,  if  I  obtain  this,  1  shall  make  bold  to  beg  one  thing 
more,  but  it  is  in  your  own  favours;  that  you  would  also 
abandon  every  kind  of  impiety  in  your  own  practice, 
since  in  it  every  vile  ruffian  may  vie  and  contend  with 
you.  In  other  cases  yon  forsake  modes  and  customs 
vvheu  they  become  common.     Wickedness  is  now  tlie 


94  THE  iN-DISPENSAflLE  DU'TY 

most  vulgar  and  ordinary  thing  in  the  world.  Shift,  1 
beseech  you,  the  fashion,  and  embrace  piety  and  virtue; 
wherein  none  but  excellent  persons  shall  rival  you* 
Learn  to  adore  your  natOre:  and  think  it  not  below  you 
to  stand  in  awe  of  him  who  can  rend  the  heavens,  and 
make  the  foundations  of  the  earth  shake;  w^ho  need:? 
but  to  withdraw  his  mercies  to  make  you  miserable,  or 
his  assistance  to  reduce  you  to  nothing.  Study  to  en- 
noble your  souls  with  solid  knowledge  and  true  wisdom; 
with  an  eminent  greatness  of  mind,  and  contempt  of  the 
world:  a  great  liberty  and  freedom  of  spirit;  an  undaunt- 
ed magnanimity  and  courage ;  and  extensive  charity  and 
goodness;  a  venerable  temper  and  purity;  an  amiable 
meekness  and  humility;  so  shall  you  render  yourselves 
honourable,  and  more  excellent  than  your  neighbours  in 
this  world;  and  be  partakers  of  immortal  honour  and 
glory  m  the  world  to  come.     Amen. 


THE    INDISPENSABLE    DUTY    OF    LOVING    OUR 
ENEMIES, 


LUKE   VL   27, 

^ut  I  say  unto  you  which  hear,  love  your  enemies. 
While  we  travel  through  the  wilderness  of  this 
world,  much  of  the  comfort  of  our  pilgrimage  depends 
on  the  good  correspondence,  and  mutual  services  and 
endearments  of  our  fellow-travellers.  Therefore,  our 
blessed  Saviour,  whose  precepts  are  all  intended  for  our 
perfection  and  felicity,  fitted  to  pr»ocure  to  us  both  the 
good  things  of  this  world,  and  that  which  is  to  come, 
has  taken  especial  care  to  join  and  unite  the  minds  of 
men  in  the  strictest  bonds  of  friendship  and  love.  He 
hath  been  at  great  pains  by  his  precepts  and  by  his  ex- 
ample, by  earnest  persuasions  and  powerful  motives, 
to  smoGth  our  rugged  humours,  and  calm  our  passions. 


OF  LOVING   OUR  ENEMIES.  99 

and  take  ofF  the  roughness  and  asperity  from  oar  natures, 
which  hinders  us  from  joining  and  cementing  together. 
Now,  were  we  to  converse  witli  none  bat  such  as  aro 
Christians  in  earnest,  we  should  fiiid  it  no  hard  matter 
to  live  in  concord  and  love;  we  should  meet  with  no  oc- 
casion of  quarrel  and  contention;  and  should  only  be 
obliged  to  love  our  friends,  because  all  men  would  be 
such.  But  well  did  our  Saviour  know,  that  his  part 
was  to  be  small  in  the  world;  that  many  would  oppose 
the  profession,  and  many  more  would  neglect  the  prac- 
tice of  that  religion  which  he  taught;  and  that  his  fol-' 
lowers,  besides  common  injuries  incident  to  others, 
were  to  meet  with  much  enmity  and  hatred  for  their 
Master's  sake;  and  therefore,  that,  amidst  all  these 
storms,  they  might  maintain  that  constant  serene  tran- 
quillity, that  amiable  sweetness  and  benignity  of  spirit, 
without  which  they  could  neither  be  like  him,  nor  hap- 
py in  themselves,  he  was  pleased  to  enjoin  such  an  ar- 
dent affection  and  charity  towards  all  men,  as  no  ne-- 
gleet  can  cool,  no  injury  can  extinguish.  To  love  those 
who  have  obliged  us,  is  that  which  nature  might  teach, 
and  wicked  men  practice;  to  favour  those  who  have 
never  wronged  us,  is  but  a  piece  of  common  humanity: 
but  our  religion  requires  us  to  extend  our  kindness  even 
to  those  who  have  injured  and  abused  us,  and  who  con- 
thauc  to  do  and  Wish  us  mischief;  and  that  we  nevef 
design  any  other  revenge  against  our  most  bitter  and  in- 
veterate enemies,  than  to  wish  them  well,  and  do  them 
all  the  good  we  can,  whether  they  will  or  not:  for  unto 
those  that  hear  him  our  Saviour  saith,  love  your  ene- 
mies. 

But,  alas!  how  little  is  this  minded  by  the  greater 
part  of  those  who  call  themselves  Christians.  Other 
precepts  are  broken  and  slighted,  but  this  is  industriously 
baflled  and  discredited  by  us.  In  other  cases  we  ack- 
nowledge our  fault,  but  study  to  qualify  and  excuse  it 
b"y  the  frailty  of  our  nature,  or  violence  of  a  temptation: 
(we  are  all  sinners;  it  is  a  fault  indeed,  but  who  can 
help  it?)  Now,  though  these  excuses,  God  knows,  are 
very  frivolous,  and  will  bo  of  no  force  in  the  great  day 


90  THE   INDISFEXSABLK   DUTY 

of  our  accounts;  yet  they  imply  something  of  modesty 
and  ingenuous  acknowledgement,  and  men  may  repent 
and  forsake  what  they  already  condemn.  But  in  the 
instance  of  loving  enemies,  and  pardoning  otlences, 
many  tire  so  bold  and  impudent,  that,  instead  of  obey- 
ing, they  quarreJ  with  the  law  as  impossible  and  unjust; 
passing  sentence  upon  that  by  which  themseh  es  nmst 
be  judged.  How  unreasonable  is  it  (say  they)  that  wo 
should  love  those  that  hate  us?  What  congruity  be- 
tween that  act  and  those  objects!  Can  cold  snow  pro- 
duce heat,  or  enmity  beget  aft'ection?  Must  we  be  in- 
sensible of  the  injuries  we  meet  with,  or  reward  him 
that  offers  them?  JMust  we  dissolve  the  principles  of 
our  nature,  and  cease  to  be  men,  that  we  may  become 
Christians?  These,  and  such  like,  are  either  the  ex 
pressions  or  thoughts  of  too  many  among  us!  andeithei 
Christ  nnist  come  down  in  his  offers,  and  remit  some- 
what of  the  rigour  of  his  laws,  or  else  all  the  promises 
of  the  gojjpel,  all  the  pleasures  of  the  other  world,  shall 
not  engage  them  to  his  obedience.  They  will  rather 
choose  to  burn  in  eternal  tiames  of  fury  and  discord, 
than  live  at  peace  with  those  that  have  wronged  them. 

It  can  therefore  never  be  unseasonable  to  press  a  duty 
so  very  necessary,  yet  so  niuch  neglected.  The  text  I 
Iiave  chosen  for  tliis  purpose  is  very  plain  and  clear: — « 
Love  your  enemies.  But,  because  many  do  strain  the 
precept  to  some  such  sense  as  may  suit  with  their  own 
practice,  we  shall  first  search  into  the  importance  of  it, 
and  then  persuade  you  to  perform  it.  The  full  mean- 
ing and  importance  of  the  precept  will  appear,  if  we 
consider,  first.  Who  they  are  whom  we  are  commanded 
to  love;  and  secondly,  Wherein  the  love  we  owe  them 
does  consist. 

The  persons  whom  we  are  commiinded  to  love,  are 
called  our  enemies.  And  lest  we  should  mistake  them, 
they  are  clearly  described  in  the  following  words: — The 
fountain  of  their  enmity  is  within.  They  are  those  who 
hate  us;  who  envy  our  happiness,  who  wish  our  misery, 
and  abhor  our  persons  and  society.  But,  were  this  fire 
kept  witliin  their  breast,  it  mvght  well  scorch  themselves. 


OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  97 

It  could  not  prejudice  us:  but  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh;  then*  maUce  does  sharpen  their 
tongues.  They  are  flirther  described  as  tliose  that  curse 
us;  they  vent  their  wrath  in  oatlis  and  imprecations, 
secret  calumnies,  and  open  reproaches.  Nor  are  their 
hands  always  bound  up;  they  use  us  despitefully,  and 
procure  us  mischief.  iS'oVv',  if  our  love  must  be  extend- 
ed to  all  these,  we  shall  hardly  find  any  whom  we  dare 
safel}^  exclude.  Of  our  private  enemies  there  can  be  no 
question.  But  what  shall  be  said  of  the  enemies  of  our 
country,  I  see  no  warrant  to  exclude  them  from  our 
charity.  We  may  indeed  lawfully  oppose  their  violent 
invasion,  and  defend  our  rights  with  the  sword,  under 
the  banner  of  the  public  magistrate,  to  whom  such  au- 
thority is  committed:  but  all  this  may  be  done  with  as 
little  malice  and  hatred  as  a  judge  may  punish  a  male- 
factor; the  general  may  be  as  void  of  passion  as  the 
lord  chief  justice;  and  the  soldier,  as  the  executioner. 
But  charity  will  oblige  a  prince  never  to  have  recourse 
to  the  sword,  till  all  other  remedies  fail;  to  blunt  the 
edge  of  war,  by  sparing  as  much  as  may  be  the  shedding 
of  innocent  blood,  with  all  other  barbarities  that  use  to 
accompany  it;  and  to  accept  of  any  reasonable  capitula- 
tion. 

We  come  next  to  the  enemies  of  our  religion:  and  in- 
deed there  are  many  who  are  so  far  from  thinking  them 
to  be  among  the  numbei-  of  those  whom  they  are  obliged 
to  love,  that  they  look  upon  it  as  a  part  of  their  duty  to 
hate  and  malign  them.  Their  zeal  is  continually  vent- 
ing itself  in  fierce  invectives  against  Antichrist,  and  eve- 
ry thing  they  are  pleased  to  call  antichristian ;  and  they 
are  ready  to  apply  all  the  prophecies  and  imprecations 
of  the  Old  Testament,  in  their  very  prayers,  against 
those  that  ditler  from  them.  And  ordinarily  the  ani- 
mosities are  greatest  where  the  differences  are  least;  and 
©ue  party  of  a  reformed  church  shall  be  more  in-censed 
against  another,  than  either  against  the  superstition  and 
j;}ranny  of  Rome,  or  the  carnality  of  the  Mahometan 
fi^ith.  Yea,  perhaps  you  may  find  some  who  agree  in 
opinion,  and  only  differ  in  several  ways  of  expressing 
9 


98  THE   INDISPENSABLE   D^JTY 

the  same  thing,  and  yet  can  scarce  look  on  one  another 
without  displeasure  and  aversion.  But,  alas!  how  much 
do  these  men  disparage  that  religion  for  which  they  ap- 
pear so  zealous,  how  much  do  they  mistake  the  spirit  of 
Christianity!  x\re  the  persons  whom  they  hate,  greater 
enemies  to  religion,  than  those  who  persecuted  the 
apostles  and  martyrs  for  professing  it?  And  yet  these 
were  the  persons  whom  our  Saviour  commanded  his  dis- 
ciples to  love:  and  himself  did  pray  for  those  that  cru- 
cified him;  and  severely  checked  the  disciples,  when,  by 
a  precedent  brought  from  the  Old  Testament,  tliey 
would  have  called  for  fire  from  heaven  on  those  who 
would  not  receive  them;  telling  them,  They  knew  not 
what  spirit  they  were  of:  i.  e.  They  did  not  consider 
by  what  spirit  they  were  prompted  to  such  cruel  incli- 
nations; or,  as  others  explain  it,  they  did  not  yet  suffi- 
ciently understand  the  temper  and  genius  of  Christianity; 
which  is  pure  and  peaceable,  gentle  and  meek:  full  of 
sweetness,  and  full  of  love.  If  men  would  impartially 
examine  their  hatred  and  animosity  against  the  enemies 
of  their  religion,  I  fear  they  would  find  them  proceed 
from  a  principle  which  themselves  would  not  willingly 
own.  Pride  and  self-conceit  will  make  a  man  disdain 
those  of  a  different  persuasion ;  and  think  it  a  disparage- 
ment to  his  judgment,  that  any  should  differ  from  it. 
Mere  nature  and  self-love  will  make  a  man  hate  those 
who  oppose  the  interest  and  advancement  of  that  party 
v^?hich  himself  has  espoused.  Hence  men  are  many 
times  more  displeased  at  some  small  mistakes  in  judg- 
ment, than  the  greatest  immoralities  in  practice!  yea, 
perhaps,  they  will  find  a  secret  pleasure,  and  wicked 
satisfaction,  in  hearing  or  reporting  the  faults  or  scandal 
of  their  adversaries.  Certainly  the  power  of  religion 
rightly  prevailing  in  the  soul,  would  mould  us  into  anotlv 
er  temper:  it  would  teach  us  to  love  and  pity,  and  pray 
for  the  person,  as  well  as  hate  and  condemn  the  errors 
they  are  supposed  to  espouse:  it  would  make  us  wish 
their  conversion  rather  than  their  confusion;  and  be  more 
desirous  that  God  would  fit  them  for  another  world, 
tlmn  that  he  would  take  them  out  of  this.     We  may  m- 


OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  99 

deed  wish  the  disappointment  of  their  wicked  purposes; 
for  this  is  charity  to  them,  to  keep  them  from  being  the 
unhappy  instruments  of  mischief  in  the  world:  but  he 
that  can  wish  plagues  and  ruin  to  their  persons,  and  de- 
lights in  their  sins,  or  in  their  misery,  hath  more  of  the 
devil  than  the  christian. 

Thus  you  have  seen  who  those  enemies  are  to  whom 
our  charity  must  be  extended.  It  follows  to  be  consid- 
ered, what  is  the  nature  of  the  love  we  owe  them.  I 
shall  not  now  spend  your  time  in  any  nice  or  curious 
speculations  about  the  nature  of  this  master-passion.  It 
is  the  prime  affection  of  the  soul,  which  gives  measures, 
and  sets  bounds  to  all  the  rest;  every  man's  hatred,  grief, 
and  joy,  depending  upon,  and  flowing  from  his  love. 
I  shall  now  only  observe  to  you,  that  there  is  a  sensible 
kind  of  love,  a  certain  tenderness  and  melting  affection 
implanted  in  us  by  nature  towards  our  nearest  relations, 
on  purpose  to  engage  us  to  those  peculiar  services  we 
owe  them;  and  there  is  an  intimacy  and  delightful  union 
between  friends,  arising  from  some  especial  sympathy  of 
humours,  and  referring  to  the  maintenance  of  such  cor- 
respondences. These  are  not  always  at  our  command; 
nor  are  we  obliged  to  love  either  strangers  or  enemies  at 
this  rale.  It  is  not  to  be  expected,  that  at  first  sight  of 
a  person,  who  hath  nothing  singularly  taking,  we  should 
find  such  a  special  kindness  and  tenderness  arising  for 
him  in  our  hearts;  much  less  can  fondness  and  passionate 
affection  proceed  from  the  sense  of  any  harm  received 
from  him.  The  command  in  the  text  does  not  amount 
to  this,  ( though  there  be  a  great  advantage  in  a  tender 
and  affectionate  disposition,  both  to  secure  and  facilitate 
our  duty ;)  but  we  are  certainly  obliged  to  such  a  sincere 
and  cordial  good-will  to  all  men,  as  will  incline  us  to 
perform  all  the  good  offices  we  can,  even  to  those  who 
have  offended  us.  But  the  nature  and  measures  of  this 
love  will  more  fully  appear,  if  we  consider  what  it  does 
exclude,  and  what  it  does  imply. 

First,  then,  it  excludes  all  harsh  thoughts  and  ground- 
less suspicions.  The  Apostle  telleth  us,  that  charity 
thiuketh  no  evil;  that  it  hopeth  all  things,  believeth  ail 


100  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY 

things.  To  entertain,  with  pleasure,  every  bad  report 
of  those  who  have  offended  us,  and  to  put  the  worst 
construction  on  their  doubtful  actions,  is  both  a  clear 
evidence  of  our  hatred,  and  an  unhappy  method  to  con- 
tinue it.  Were  once  the  love  we  recommend  seated  iu 
the  soul,  it  would  soon  cast  out  those  restless  jealousies, 
sour  suspicions,  harsh  surmises,  and  imbittered  thoughts; 
and  display  itself  in  a  more  candid  and  gentle  disposi- 
tion; in  fair  glosses,  and  friendly  censures;  in  a  favour- 
able extenuation  of  greater  faults,  and  covering  of  lesser. 
It  would  make  a  man  mterpret  all  things  in  the  bfest 
meaning  they  are  capable  of;  and  choose  rather  to  be 
mistaken  to  his  own  prejudice,  by  a  too  favourable 
opinion,  than  to  his  neighbour's,  by  a  groundless  jeal- 
ousy. And  even  in  this  sense  it  may  be,  that  charity 
covereth  a  multitude  of  sins. 

Again,  the  love  which  we  owe  to  enemies,  excludes 
all  causeless  and  immoderate  anger:  It  suffereth  long, 
and  is  not  easily  provoked;  endureth  all  things.  Our 
Saviour  tells  us,  that  whoso  is  angry  with  his  brother 
without  a  cause,  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  judgment; 
and  if  his  anger  exceed  the  cause  he  is  equally  guilty. 
All  anger  is  not  vicious;  we  may  be  angry,  and  not  sin. 
This  passion,  as  all  others  implanted  in  us  by  God,  is 
innocent  when  kept  within  its  due  bounds:  it  has  its 
proper  office  in  the  mind,  as  th«  spleen  in  the  body;  but 
its  excess  and  distemper  swells  into  a  disease.  To 
make  it  allowable,  it  must  not  exceed  the  value  of  the 
cause,  nor  the  proportion  of  the  circumstances.  It 
must  be  governed  by  discretion,  and  kept  within  the 
bounds  of  reason,  that  it  break  not  forth  into  indecent 
expressions,  or  violent  and  blamable  actions.  And 
further,  it  must  not  be  too  permanent  and  lasting;  wc 
must  not  let  the  sun  set  upon  our  anger.  Plutarch  tells 
us,  that  the  Pythagoreans  were  careful  to  observe  the 
very  letter  of  this  precept:  for  if  anger  had  boiled  up  to 
the  height  of  an  injury  or  reproach,  before  sunset  they 
would  salute  each  other,  and  renew  their  friendship; 
they  were  ashamed  that  the  same  anger  which  had  dis- 
turbed the  coimsels  of  the  day,  should  also  trouble  the 


OF  LOVING   OUR   ENEMIES.  101 

quiet  and  repose  of  the  night,  lest,  minghng  with  their 
rest  and  dreams,  it  should  become  preval-ent  and  habitu- 
al in  them.  And  sure,  we  owe  an  infinitely  greater 
deference  to  the  precepts  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  and  his 
holy  apostles,  than  they  did  to  their  master's  reasoning 
and  advices.  And  though  we  should  not  take  this  pre- 
cept in  its  strictest  and  literal  signification,  yet  this  we 
must  know,  that  the  same  passion  and  resentment  which 
was  innocent  and  rational  in  its  first  rise,  may  become 
vicious  and  criminal  by  its  continuance.  Anger  may 
kindle  in  the  breast  of  a  wise  man,  but  rests  only  in  the 
bosom  of  a  fool.  And  this  will  lead  us  to  a  tliird  thing 
which  the  precept  in  our  text  does  condemn. 

The  love  of  enemies  here  commanded,  does  exclude 
all  rooted  malice  and  rancour,  proceeding  from  the 
memory  and  resentment  of  injuries,  after  the  prejudice 
and  harm  sustained  by  them  is  over.  Certainly  there  is 
nothing  more  contrary  to  charity  than  a  peevish  rumina- 
ting and  poring  on  the  ofl^ences  we  have  met  with;  and 
their  memories  are  very  ill  employed,  who  seldom  re- 
member a  courtesy,  or  forget  a  wrong.  It  is  ordinary 
for  some  who  dare  not  profess  intentions  of  revenge,  to 
express  their  resentment  in  some  such  threatening  as  this: 
That  they  will  forgive  the  injury,  but  never  forget  it, 
I  hope  they  do  not  mean,  they  will  pass  it  at  this  time, 
and  revenge  it  afterward.  This  would  but  make  the  sin 
the  greater,  by  being  more  deliberate.  Is  it  then  that 
they  intend  them  no  harm,  but  will  cease  to  do  them 
good?  This  is  a  lame  and  imperfect  charity;  expressly 
contradictory  to  the  precept  in  the  text,  enjoining  us  to 
bless  them  that  curse  us,  to  do  good  to  them  that  hate  us, 
and  to  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  us.  Nor  must 
we  expect  the  blessing  of  God,  if  this  be  all  we  allow 
to  others;  for  with  what  measure  we  mete,  it  shall  be 
measured  to  us  again.  There  is  but  one  way  we  may 
lawfully  remember  an  injury;  and  that  is  so  as  to  be 
more  cautious  in  trusting  one  who  hath  deceived  us,  or 
exposing  ourselves  to  the  power  of  him  who  hath  wrong- 
ed us.  In  this  case  religion  does  allow  and  direct  us  to 
join  the  serpent's  wasdom  with  the  dpve's  jpfLOcency. 
9* 


102  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY 

But  then,  I  am  sure,  it  is  neither  necessary  nor  fit  to 
threaten  those  who  have  wronged  us,  with  our  resolu- 
tions to  remember  the  injury.  We  may  be  as  cautious 
as  we  please  without  it;  and  those  threats  do  nothing 
but  rankle  and  displease  our  adversary,  which  ought  to 
be  no  part  of  a  Christian's  design.  A  meek  and  char- 
itable person  will  be  loth  to  have  his  memory  infested, 
and  his  thoughts  soured  with  resentment  of  wrongs;  and 
if  they  occui  to  his  mind,  he  will  make  no  other  use  of 
them  than  to  put  himself  on  his  guard;  unless  from 
thence  he  take  occasion  to  benefit  and  oblige  the  person 
who  has  offended  him,  and,  as  our  text  expressly  directs, 
to  do  him  good,  to  bless  and  pray  for  him. 

Again,  this  precept  does  exclude  and  prohibit  the 
taking  or  procuring  any  revenge.  By  revenge,  we  mean 
such  a  simple  evil  done  to  our  adversary,  as  does  bring 
no  real  benefit  or  reputation  to  ourselves.  For  certainly 
it  is  not  unlawful  to  seek  the  reparation  of  our  own 
right  by  an  authorised  judge,  nor  yet  to  provide  for  the 
public  security  by  the  punishment  of  offenders,  unless 
some  special  circumstance  makes  it  so.  This  may  many 
times  be  done  without  prejudice  or  hatred,  yea,  with 
great  kindness  and  compassion  towards  the  person  of  the 
offender.  But,  if  we  have  any  charity  or  love  to  our 
adversaries,  we  shall  be  really  afliicted  with  the  evils 
that  befalls  them ;  and  therefore  will  never  willingly  pro- 
cure ourselves  that  trouble  by  inflicting  it  on  them.  It 
is  evidence  of  a  wicked  and  malicious  humour,  to  please 
ourselves  in  the  misery  of  another,  or  delight  in  an  evil 
that  brings  us  no  good.  Whatever  latitude  the  Jews 
either  had  or  pretended  to,  it  is  not  lawful  for  us  to  de- 
sire eye  for  eye,  or  tooth  for  tooth,  unless  we  could  say, 
that  his  eye  would  serve  our  head,  or  his  hand  fit  our 
arm,  or  his  pain  allay  our  torment,  which  he  had  pro- 
cured to  us. 

From  hence  we  may  judge  what  is  to  be  thought  of 
those  who  are  ready  to  revenge  the  smallest  injury,  even 
an  uncivil  expression,  with  the  death  of  the  offender; 
never  bemg  satisfied  till  they  have  ventured  two  lives, 
and  as  many  souls,  in  the  combat;  a  tiling  which  should 


OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  103 

not  be  named  among  Christians,  but  with  the  same  de- 
testation we  have  against  the  vilest  actions;  for  whatever 
colours  of  bravery  or  gallantry  it  may  be  painted  with, 
it  is  really  nothing  else  than  a  more  specious  and  formal 
kind  of  murder.  Nor  does  it  differ  from  the  basest 
assassination,  save  only  in  this,  with  the  wickedness  of 
attempting  another's  life  it  joins  the  rashness  and  folly  of 
exposing  our  own. 

Lastly,  the  love  which  we  owe  our  enemies,  does  ex- 
clude all  supercilious  and  scornful  contempt  and  neglect 
i)f  them.  Which  I  mark  the  rather,  because  some 
think  they  have  sufficiently  obeyed  the  precept,  if  they 
overlook  an  injury,  as  thinking  the  person  below  their 
revenge.  Meanwhile,  their  corrupt  nature  relishes  as 
much  pleasure  in  the  scorn  and  disdain  of  their  enemies, 
as  it  could  in  the  revenge  of  the  injury:  their  wicked  hu- 
mours are  not  staned,  but  only  change  their  diet.  Of 
this  nature  was  the  answer  of  the  philosopher,  to  some 
who  incited  and  provoked  him  to  revenge,  'If  an  ass  kick 
me,  shall  I  kick  him  again?'  This  is  but  a  lame  and 
misshapen  charity ;  it  hath  more  of  pride  than  goodness. 
We  should  learn  of  the  holy  Jesus,  who  was  not  only 
meek,  but  lowly.  We  should  contemn  the  injury,  and 
pity  the  weakness,  but  should  not  disdain  or  despise  the 
persons  of  our  enemies.  Charity  vaunteth  not  herself, 
is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  herself  unseemly. 

Having  thus  discovered  those  things  which  are  incon- 
sistent with  charity,  and  excluded  by  the  love  of  ene- 
mies, it  remains  that  we  show  what  it  does  import  and 
require. 

First,  then,  it  imports  an  inward  kindness  and  affec- 
tion ;  which,  if  it  does  not  amount  to  that  passionate 
tenderness  which  we  have  for  our  near  relations  and  in- 
timate friends,  yet  it  implies  a  good  will  towards  them, 
and  friendly  concernment  in  their  interest.  If  we  love 
an  enemy,  we  shall  wish  his  welfare,  and  rejoice  in  it, 
and  be  nnfeignedly  sorry  for  any  disaster  that  befalls 
him;  so  far  shall  we  be  from  rejoicing  in  his  misfortunes. 
And  certainly  had  we  a  right  sense  of  things,  we  should 
be  more  troubled  for  the  harm  which  our  enemy  does  to 


104  THE   IXDISPENSABLE   DUTY 

his  own  soul  by  wronging  us,  than  for  the  prejudice  we 
sustain  by  him:  our  compassion  towards  him  would  di- 
minish, if  not  altogether  swallow  up  the  resentment  of 
what  we  suffer  from  him. 

But  our  kindness  and  good  will  towards  our  enemies 
must  not  rest  in  empty  wishes,  but  express  itself  in  kind 
words  and  friendly  actions.  When  we  speak  to  onr 
enemy,  it  must  be  in  such  smooth,  discreet,  and  oblige 
ing  terms,  as  are  most  like  to  mollify  and  gain  him,  that 
by  soft  answers  we  may  turn  away  his  wrath,  and  shun 
all  grievous  words,  which  stir  up  anger.  When  we 
speak  of  him,  it  should  be  as  advantageously  as  we  can 
with  truth,  concealing  or  qualifying  his  faults,  and  prais- 
ing whatever  is  good  in  him.  And  sure  he  must  be  sin- 
gularly bad  in  whom  we  can  find  nothing  to  commend. 

Again,  we  must  perform  for  them  all  those  good  offi- 
ces which  their  necessities  call  for,  and  our  power  can 
reach.  Do  good  to  them  that  hate  you.  If  our  enemy 
hunger,  we  must  feed  him;  if  he  thirst,  we  must  give 
him  drink;  so  shall  we  heap  coals  of  fire  upon  his  head, 
to  mollify  his  obdurate  temper,  and  overcome  his  evil 
by  our  good;  but  not  to  aggravate  his  guilt  and  punish- 
ment, as  some  mistake  the  words:  for  though  that  be 
many  times  the  issue,  yet  ought  it  not  to  be  any  part  of 
our  design. 

Lastly,  because  all  that  we  can  do  for  the  good  of 
enemies,  signifies  little,  we  must  employ  our  interest  in 
the  court  of  heaven  in  their  behalf,  begging  of  God  that 
he  would  turn  their  hearts  to  himself  and  to  us,  and  bless 
them  with  the  pardon  of  all  their  sins,  particularly  the 
wrongs  they  have  done  to  ourselves,  and  with  all  things 
necessary  for  their  present  welfare,  or  future  happiness. 
Pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use  you.  And  this  is 
the  surest  evidence  of  our  charity  to  them.  Mild  words 
may  be  designed  as  a  snare  to  entrap  them,  and  courtesy 
may  be  done  them  to  serve  our  vanity,  or  a  generous 
kind  of  pride;  which  may  make  us  delight  to  have  our 
enemy  indebted  to  us,  as  knowing  that  it  is  more  glori- 
ous in  the  eyes  of  the  world  to  raise  a  fallen  adversary 
^han  to  frample  on  him.     But  it  must  be  only  obedienc3 


OF  LOVIXG   OUR   ENEMIES.  105 

to  God's  commands,  and  sincere  love  to  our  enemy, 
vvhicli  can  make  us  take  hiin  into  our  closet,  and  into 
our  heart;  to  share  our  prayers  with  him,  and  make  him 
partake  of  the  fruits  of  our  devotion;  and  to  have  that 
same  concernment  for  his  interests  as  for  our  own,  at 
once  recommending  them  both  to  our  heavenly  Father. 
By  this  time  I  hope  you  understand  the  importance 
of  this  precept  of  our  Saviour,  Love  your  enemies:  it 
remains,  that  we  exhort  you  to  the  performance.  And 
I  shall  begin  with  an  argument,  which  may  be  of  force 
to  give  the  first  assault  to  our  rebellious  inclinations,  and 
make  way  for  further  and  more  mild  persuasions,  and  it 
shall  be  the  indispensable  necessity  of  the  duty.  We 
must  not  look  upon  this  as  a  matter  which  we  may  do 
or  omit  at  pleasure;  nor  yet  as  a  counsel  of  perfection, 
highly  conunendable,  but  not  absolutely  necessary  to 
salvation.  It  is  as  indispensably  required  as  any  other 
duty  of  our  religion;  and  he  who  resolves  not  to  obey 
in  this  instance,  may  renounce  his  baptism,  and  abandon 
Christianity.  None  can  escape  the  obligation  of  the 
precept,  unless  he  be  so  rarely  happy  as  to  have  no  en- 
emies; nor  must  any  think  to  redeem  themselves  from 
this  by  some  other  performance.  Let  our  opinions  be 
never  so  orthodox,  and  our  zeal  in  maintaining  them  nev- 
er so  fervent;  let  our  prayers  be  never  so  frequent,  and  all 
our  discourses  ravishing;  let  our  other  attainments  be  nev- 
er so  great,  and  our  confidence  of  our  salvation  never 
so  strong;  yet,  if  we  refuse  to  obey  this  precept,  we  are 
none  of  Christ's  disciples;  or,  in  the  words  of  the  Apos- 
tle, we  may  say.  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  men 
and  angels;  though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  un- 
derstand all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge;  and  though  I 
bestow  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor;  yea,  although  I 
give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not  this  charity  and 
love,  even  to  mine  enemies,  it  profiteth  me  nothing. 
And  our  Saviour  himself  tells  us  in  express  terms,  that 
unless  we  forgive  others  their  trespasses,  neither  will 
God  forgive  us  ours.  Yea,  he  hath  taught  us  to  pray  for 
pardon,  in  such  terms  as  imports  a  dreadful  curse  upon 
j^urselves,  if  we  are  malicious  and  revengeful,  while  we 


106  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY 

beg  God  would  pardon  us  in  the  same  manner  that  we 
pardon  those  who  sin  against  us;  subscribing,  as  it  were, 
with  our  own  hands,  and  confirming  out  of  our  own 
mouths,  that  sentence  which  shall  be  pronounced 
against  us;  for  even  so  will  God  forgive  us,  i.  e.  he 
will  take  vengeance  on  us,  if  we  have  dealt  so  with  oth- 
ers. And  as  those  who  do  not  love  their  enemies,  do 
beg  their  own  condemnation  in  prayer;  so  also  they  eat 
and  drink  it  in  the  holy  sacrament.  And  men  are  com- 
monly so  far  convinced  of  this,  that  many  choose  to  keep 
back  from  the  table  of  the  Lord,  that  they  may  more  free- 
ly entertain  their  animosities.  But,  alas!  what  a  folly  and 
madness  this  is!  Think  they  to  excuse  a  sin  by  the  neg- 
lect of  a  duty?  Or  can  they  put  ofTdeath,  as  they  do  the 
participation  of  the  sacrament?  Or  can  they  hope  to  be 
admitted  into  the  eternal  enjoyment  of  God,  if  they  should 
die  in  that  malice,  which  renders  them  unfit  to  approach 
imto  him  in  that  holy  ordinance?  Do  not  deceive  your- 
selves: never  shall  any  enter  into  those  blessed  mansions, 
those  regions  of  peace  and  love,  whose  heart  is  not  first  in- 
spired with  charity,  and  softened  into  a  compliance  with 
this  very  precept.  And  it  were  as  absurd,  to  think  that  a 
man  may  be  malicious  and  revengeful  all  his  days,  and  yet 
go  to  heaven,  there  to  learn  meekness  and  charity,  as  to 
think  that  a  man  may  be  luxurious  and  dishonest  in  this 
world,  and  become  temperate,  and  honest,  and  happy  in 
the  other.  In  a  word,  whatever  shifts  we  may  make  to 
deceive  ourselves,  the  command  is  clear  and  express, 
the  sanction  severe  and  peremptory;  we  have  but  our 
choice  of  these  two,  love  of  enemies,  or  damnation. 

Nor  can  this  seem  unreasonable  to  any  who  considers, 
that  God  is  the  author  of  our  natures,  the  creator  of  all 
our  faculties  may  justly  rule  our  inclinations,  and  dispose 
of  our  love  and  aft'ection:  and  yet  he  is  content  (if  I  may 
so  speak)  to  bargain  with  us,  and  to  buy  ofi'our  natural, 
or  rather  wicked  resentments;  offering  us  his  own  mer- 
cy and  favour,  freedom  from  hell,  and  everlasting  hap- 
piness, on  this,  amongst  other  conditions,  that  we  love 
our  enemies. 

Nay,  farther,  the  duty  in  itself  is  so  reasonable,  that 


OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  107 

the  more  sober  of  the  Heathens  j  who  had  nothing  above 
reason  to  teach  them,  have  acknowledged  it,  if  not  aa 
necessary,  yet  as  highly  becoming,  and  an  eminent  in- 
stance of  a  virtuous  and  generous  mind.  Plato  could 
say.  That  injury  is  by  no  means  to  be  done,  nor  to  be 
repaid  to  him  that  has  done  it.  And  when  a  malicious 
person  said  to  Zeno,  Let  me  perish,  if  I  don't  do  yoa 
a  mischief;  his  answer  was.  Let  me  perish  if  I  don't 
reconcile  thee  to  me.  Antoninus  tells  us  frequently, 
That  all  reasonable  creatures  are  born  for  one  another; 
and  that  it  is  the  part  of  justice  tO  bear  with  others: 
That  it  is  through  ignorance  they  offend  us,  as  not 
knowing  the  right  way  to  their  own  happiness;  and 
therefore  we  should  rather  instruct  them  better  than 
hate  them:  That  the  best  kind  of  revenge  is,  not  to  be- 
come like  them  in  wickedness  and  malice.  And  many 
other  excellent  arguments  does  that  royal  philosopher 
bring  to  the  same  purpose.  And  Plutarch  gives  this  as 
one  of  the  reasons  why  God  is  so  slow  in  punishing 
wicked  persons,  that  we  may  learn  meekness  and  pa- 
tience by  his  example,  adding  that  excellent  observation. 
That  our  greatest  happiness  and  perfection  consists  in 
the  imitation  of  our  maker. 

But  to  leave  the  testimonies  of  heathens,  the  obliga- 
tion of  this  precept  of  loving  our  enemies  may  be 
deduced  from  another,  which  every  man  will  acknowl- 
edge to  be  highly  reasonable,  the  doing  to  others  what 
we  would  have  done  to  ourselves.  Every  one  of  us 
desires  to  be  loved  and  cherished  by  others;  to  have  our 
faults  pardoned,  our  failings  overlooked,  and  our  neces- 
sities supplied.  Or,  if  any  be  so  haughty  and  stubborn, 
that  they  disdain  a  courtesy  from  an  enemy ;  yet  I  hope 
there  is  none  so  mad,  but  he  desires  the  favour  of  God; 
whose  hatred  he  deserves  infinitely  more,  than  his  most 
bitter  enemy  can  deserve  his.  How  then  can  we  think 
it  unreasonable,  to  allow  that  to  others,  which  ourselves 
expect  and  desire?  Can  we  look  that  our  master  should 
forgive  us  ten  thousand  talents,  if  we  take  our  fellow- 
eervant  by  the  throat,  and  hale   him  into  prison  for  one 


108  THE   INDISPEISrsABLE   DrXY 

pardon  our  sins,  unless  we  be  willing  to  add,  that  we  par- 
don those  who  sin  against  us?  Certainly,  if  it  be  rea- 
sonable to  seek  pardon,  it  is  just  and  equal  to  give  it;  and 
nothing  but  blind  selfishness,  and  extravagant  partiality, 
can  teach  us  to  make  so  unreasonable  a  ditTerence  be- 
tween ourselves  and  others. 

Again,  the  reasonableness  of  this  duty  will  farther 
appear,  if  we  compare  it  with  that  malice  and  revenge 
which  it  does  oppose.  Can  there  be  any  thing  more 
against  natural  reason,  than  to  delight  in  an  evil  which 
can  bring  no  benefit  to  us?  Yet  this  is  the  very  nature 
and  essence  of  revenge:  for,  if  the  damage  we  sustain 
can  be  repaired,  it  is  no  revenge  to  seek  it;  and,  if  it 
cannot,  it  does  no  way  alleviate  the  evil  of  the  accident, 
that  we  draw  him  tliat  caused  it  into  as  great  a  misery; 
nay,  ixnless  we  are  unnatural,  and  without  bowels,  it 
will  augment  our  trouble  to  see  any  evil  befall  him. 
And  he  is  a  miserable  person  indeed,  whose  delight  ia 
in  mischief,  whose  good  is  the  evil  of  his  neighbour. 
Yea,  I  may  say,  that  he  who  returns  an  injury,  is  many 
times  more  unreasonable  than  he  who  offered  it:  for  he 
who  first  wrongs  another,  hath  commonly  some  tempta- 
tion of  advantage  by  it;  which  revenge  cannot  pretend 
to.  But  if  he  has  done  it  out  of  mere  malice,  yet  he  is 
not  worse  than  the  other  who  returns  it;  there  being  as 
much  fantastic  pleasure  in  spite,  as  in  revenge:  both  are 
alike  miserable  and  extravagant. 

And  who  are  they  against  whom  we  bend  our  malice 
and  revenge?  Are  they  not  men,  partakers  of  the  same 
nature,  descended  from  the  same  stock  with  ourselves, 
fellow-citizens  with  us  in  this  world,  and  with  whom  we 
should  hope  to  live  forever  in  a  better?  and  should  we  not 
bear  much  with  those  who  are  so  nearly  related  to  us? 
IVay  more,  they  are  the  workmanship  of  God's  hands, 
and  for  any  thing  we  know,  either  are,  or  may  become 
his  children  and  friends:  and  dare  we  pretend  any  love 
to  God,  if  we  do  not  spare  them  for  his  sake?  And 
Jastly,  if  thoy  have  done  us  any  real  wrong,  they  are  in 
BO  far  foolish,  and  destitute  of  reason:  and  who  would 
quarrel  with  a  madman?     Certainly  an  injurious  person 


OF  LOVING  OUR   ENEMIES.  109 

knows  not  what  he  is  doing,  for  he  can  never  wound  his 
neighbour  but  througli  his  own  sides,  nor  prejudice  anoth" 
er  in  a  trifling  interest,  without  hazarding  his  own  eter- 
nal concernment;  and  therefore  he  deserves  our  pity- 
rather  than  our  hatred. 

Much  more  might  be  brought  to  demonstrate  the 
reasonableness  of  what  our  Saviour  calls  for  in  the 
text:  but  I  hope  what  has  been  already  said  may  suffice 
to  stop  the  mouths  of  malicious  and  revengeful  men^ 
who  are  ready  to  quarrel  with  it.  And,  if  this  or  any 
other  duty  seem  absurd  or  unreasonable  to  us,  we  may 
learn  the  cause  from  the  apostle,  The  carnal  man  re- 
ceiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God ;  for  they  are 
foolishness  unto  him.  It  is  the  carnality  of  our  heart 
that  makes  it  seem  so:  and  therefore,  instead  of  disput- 
ing the  duty,  let  us  endeavour  to  purify  our  souls,  and 
open  the  eyes  of  our  mind;  and  we  shall  find  it  to  be 
true,  which  wisdom  said  of  her  doctrines.  They  are  all 
plain  to  him  that  understandeth,  and  right  to  them  that 
find  knowledge. 

But,  in  the  third  place,  the  love  of  enemies  is  not 
only  necessary  and  reasonable,  but  also  amiable  and 
delightful;  it  has  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  and  sweetness 
in  it.  Of  this,  I  confess,  the  greatest  evidence  must  be 
had  from  the  experience  and  practice  of  it;  the  nature 
even  of  earthly  pleasures  being  such,  that  only  the  en- 
joyment can  make  a  man  know  them.  But  though  the 
full  knowledge  hereof  require  a  nearer  acquaintance, 
yet  even  those  who  look  at  a  distance  may  perceive 
something  of  amiableness  in  it,  especially  comparing  it 
with  the  trouble  and  uneasiness  of  that  vice  it  would 
deliver  us  from.  Malice  and  revenge  are  the  most 
restless  and  tormentmg  passions  that  can  possess  the 
mind;  they  keep  it  in  continual  hurry  and  disorder; 
they  gnaw  a  man's  heart  with  anguish  and  vexation, 
and  imbitter  all  his  enjoyments;  they  mar  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  day,  and  interrupt  the  repose  of  the  night. 
Solomon  describes  these  men.  They  sleep  not  except 
they  have  done  mischief;  and  their  sleep  is  taken  away 
except  they  cause  some  to  fall. 
10 


no  THE  INDISPENSABLE  DUTY 

On  the  other  hand,  the  meek  and  peaceable  man, 
whose  mind  is  brought  to  a  compliance  with  this  pre- 
cept, is  above  the  malice  of  his  enemies.  It  is  not  in 
their  power  to  vex  him.  Amidst  all  the  assaults  of  in- 
juries and  affronts,  he  is  firm  as  a  rock,  which  no  winds 
can  shake;  no  waves  remove.  He  is  happy  in  the 
calmness  and  serenity  of  his  spirit ;  and  is  sure  either  to 
convert  or  shame  his  adversary  by  his  patience  and 
friendly  behaviour.  And  then  the  consciousness  of 
performing  his  duty,  and  assurance  of  future  reward, 
afford  him  infinitely  more  pure  and  solid  pleasure  and 
delight,  than  any  can  expect  by  uidulging  and  gratify- 
ing their  vengeful  humour. 

The  advantages  of  this  duty  will  more  clearly  ap- 
pear, when  we  take  a  view  of  those  prejudices  which 
commonly  are  entertained  against  it;  which  shall  be 
our  next  work. 

First,  then,  some  cry  out  upon  this  precept  as  enjoin- 
ing impossibilities:  doing  violence  to  the  very  constitu- 
tion of  nature,  and  obliging  men  to  a  debt  that  no  man 
is  able  to  pay.  They  will  tell  you  that  it  is  as  easy  to 
hate  ourselves,  as  to  love  our  enemies;  to  love  pain,  as 
to  bear  an  injury  meekly:  flesh  and  blood  cannot  endure 
it.  What  arrogance  and  presumption  is  this,  thus  to 
impeach  the  divine  laws.  It  is  impossible;  therefore 
God  should  not  have  commanded  it.  Such  is  their 
reasoning.  Were  it  not  far  more  rational  to  argue 
thus:  It  is  indispensably  commanded,  therefore  it  must 
needs  be  possible.  And  so  it  has  been  to  all  good  men 
that  ever  lived;  and  so  it  will  be,  by  God's  assistance,  to 
all  that  make  it  their  study.  Flesh  and  blood  cannot 
do  it.  True  enough;  but  then  take  this  into  the  ac- 
count. Flesh  and  blood  shall  never  enter  into  the  king^ 
dom  of  heaven.  It  is  indeed  against  the  propension  of 
our  coPTupt  nature;  but  it  is  the  work  of  (Christians  to 
mortify  their  corruptions.  And  if  we  think  it  impossi- 
ble, at  the  command  of  God,  and  for  the  purchase  of 
heaven,  to  love  an  enemy,  and  pardon  an  injury,  how 
would  we  bear  those  hard  trials  which  Christians  have 
sufiercd  by  tl>e  cruelty  of  persecutors?     Whether  it  is 


OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  Ill 

easier  to  suffer  a  wrong,  or  to  give  our  body  to  be  burn- 
ed? Certainly,  when  we  have  obeyed  this^  precept,  we 
have  not  yet  resisted  unto  blood;  and  therefore  that 
obedience  can  never  be  impossible,  since  harder  things 
may  be  expected  from  us.  Therefore  seriously  set 
about  the  work,  and  endeavour  to  bring  your  mmds  to 
a  compliance  with  it;  and  then  your  own  experience 
shall  confute  these  idle  pretences,  and  evince  the  possi- 
bility of  the  performance. 

Another  prejudice  against  this  precept,  is.  That  it 
seems  to  encourage  injuries,  by  hopes  of  impunity  and 
reward;  giving  the  delinquent  occasion  to  expect  kind- 
ness and  love,  instead  of  the  punishment  which  he  de- 
sei-ves;  and  so  we  should  draw  upon  ourselves  a  second 
injury  by  not  requiting  the  first. 

But  we  have  already  told  you,  that  this  precept  does 
not  forbid  the  exercise  of  justice  by  those  to  whom  the 
sword  is  committed,  when  the  public  security  calls  for 
it.  As  a  parent  may  at  once  love  and  conect  his  child, 
so  may  a  judge  be  in  charity  with  the  person  he 'does 
punish.  And  though  it  should  be  granted,  that,  by 
pardoning  injuries,  we  do  expose  ourselves  to  new  ones; 
yet  would  this  amount  to  no  more,  but  that  we  may 
suffer  hardships  by  our  obedience  to  God;  which  I  hope 
is  not  enough  to  dispense  with  our  duty.  But  truly  the 
matter  goes  not  commonly  thus:  for  if  we  consult  either 
our  own  observation,  or  the  experience  of  others,  we 
shall  fuid,  that  meek  and  charitable  persons  are  most 
seldom  exposed  to  injuries,  or  engaged  in  troubles.  He 
must  needs  be  a  desperately  wicked  person,  who  will 
offer  a  second  injury  to  one  who  hath  requited  the  first 
with  kindness  and  love.  Such  a  sweet  disposition  will 
mollify  the  hardest  hearts,  and  charm  the  most  froward 
humours;  especially  if  we  carry  ourselves  with  such 
prudence  and  discretion,  as  may  testify  that  we  are  ac- 
tuated by  a  noble  and  generous  charity,  and  not  by  a 
stupid  insensibility.  How  often  does  a  soft  answer  turn 
away  wrath?  and  the  overlooking  of  an  injury  prevent 
farther  trouble,  throwing  water  upon  the  spark  before  it 
break  forth  into  a  flame?  Hence,  if  we  look  upon  meek 


112  THE   INDISPENSABLE   DUTY 

and  quiet  persons,  wc  shall  ordinarily  find  them  appy 
in  the  peace  of  their  families,  and  favour  and  kindness 
of  all  their  neighbours:  whereas  the  angry,  quarrelsome, 
and  malicious  person,  is  an  eyesore  to  all  about  him; 
his  neighbours  shun  him,  his  servants  dread  him,  and 
all  abhor  and  avoid  him.  And  therefore  the  observa- 
tion of  this  precept  of  our  Lord,  is  so  far  from  exposing 
us  to  new  injuries,  that  by  the  mercy  of  God  it  will 
prove  the  best  means  to  secure  our  tranquillity.  Peace 
shall  be  the  reward  of  a  peaceable  temper. 

But,  lastly,  some  will  tell  us,  that  the  love  of  ene- 
mies and  pardoning  injuries,  is  inconsistent  with  the 
principles  of  honour;  and  will  expose  us  to  contempt 
and  derision.  But,  alas!  to  what  a  sad  pass  are  we 
come,  if  neither  reason  nor  religion  may  prescribe  the 
rules  of  honour ;  if  our  notions  of  it  must  be  taken  from 
the  language  of  the  sons  of  Belial,  of  strife  and  violence, 
if  to  imitate  the  Deity  in  his  most  glorious  attribute  of 
mercy  and  forgiveness,  and  become  perfect  as  our  Fath- 
er which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect,  be  accounted  a  base 
and  dishonourable  thing;  and  if  from  this  vain,  imagina- 
ry, fantastic  shadow  of  reputation,  we  will  violate  all 
laws,  human  and  divine,  and  forfeit  eternal  happiness. 
But  who  are  they  that  will  think  the  worse  of  you  for 
your  patience?  Some  vain  empty  fools,  some  profime 
atheistical  wretches,  whose  judgments  are  not  valuable, 
nor  their  praise  worth  the  having.  Or  what  can  they 
say  of  you,  but  that  you  are  meek  and  lowly,  imitators 
of  that  blessed  master  whom  we  profess  to  serve?  And 
why  do  we  own  the  name  of  Christians,  if  we  be  asham- 
ed of  the  spirit  and  life  of  Christianity?  "Why  do  w^e  not 
call  ourselves  after  the  name  of  Cain,  Nimrod,  or  some 
other  angry  and  revengeful  destroyer,  if  we  esteem  those 
qualities  more  glorious  and  excellent?  But  if  we  have 
any  deference  for  so  wise  a  man  and  great  a  king  as  Solo- 
mon, he  will  tell  us,  that  it  is  the  honour  of  a  man  to 
cease  from  strife;  and  that  he  that  is  slow  to  anger  is 
better  than  the  mighty;  and  he  who'  ruleth  his  spirit, 
better  than  he  who  takcth  a  city. 

Thus  you  see  how  um-easonable  those  prejudices  are 


OF  LOVING  OUR  ENEMIES.  113 

which  keep  men  from  the  practice  of  this  necessary  duty. 
It  remains  now,  that  we  hint  at  some  helps  for  the  per- 
formance of  it. 

The  heathens  were  pretty  ingenious  in  devising  mo- 
tives of  patience.  They  would  tell  us,  that  if  we  were 
newly  offended,  it  was  too  soon  to  resent  it;  if  long  time 
since,  it  was  too  late.  If  the  offender  be  too  strong  for 
us,  it  were  folly  to  contend;  if  he  were  too  weak,  it 
were  a  shame.  Are  we  offended  by  a  friend,  'et  us 
remember  our  old  friendship;  if  by  an  enemy,  let  us  do 
him  a  kindness,  and  he  will  do  so  no  more.  Bat  Chris- 
tianity will  direct  us  to  better  means  for  composing  the 
soul  into  the  meelmess  and  charity  which  it  does  re- 
quire. 

The  first  I  shall  recommend,  is  humility.  Let  us 
learn  to  have  low  thoughts  of  ourselves;  and  then  we 
shall  have  both  fewer  enemies,  and  be  more  inclined  to 
love  them.  Pride  and  selfconceit  makes  us  overrate 
every  petty  injury,  and  inclines  us  to  revenge:  but  if  we 
consider  what  poor  contemptible  things  we  are  in  our- 
selves, and  what  we  have  desersed,  if  not  from  men, 
yet  from  God,  whose  instruments  they  are  for  our  cor- 
rection, we  shall  be  little  concerned  at  what  the  world 
calls  affronts,  and  easily  reconciled  to  those  who  have 
wronged  us. 

Secondly,  let  us  learn  to  have  a  low  esteem  of  the 
present  world,  and  all  things  therein;  and  this  will  cut 
off  the  occasions  of  our  hatred  and  animosities.  Men 
may  wrong  us  in  our  fortune  or  reputation,  but  they 
cannot  rob  us  of  piety  and  virtue,  of  the  favour  of  God, 
and  eternal  happiness.  And  therefore,  if  our  minds  be 
once  raised  above  those  transitory  vanities,  we  cazmot 
meet  with  injuries  worth  the  resentijig.  If  we  aim  at 
heaven,  and  the  glory  of  another  world,  we  shall  not 
stand  to  quarrel  and  contend  about  anv  trifling  interest 
in  our  way  thither. 

Thirdly,  the  frequent  and  serious  tnoughts  of  deaths 

would  conduce  much  to  allay  our  hatred,  and  dispose  us 

to  meekness  and  charity.     Naturalists  tell  us,  that  when 

swarms  of  bees  fight  in  the  air,  they  are  dispersed  by 

10* 


114  THE    INDISPENSABLE    DUTY 

throwing  dust  among  them.  Did  we  in  our  thoughts 
often  reflect  upon  that  dust  whereunto  we  must  all  short- 
ly return,  we  should  more  easily  lay  down  our  quan-els, 
and  animosities.  Wliile  we  contend  about  small  things, 
little  do  we  consider  that  death  is  coming  on  apace,  and 
will  swallow  up  the  victor  and  the  vanquished;  him  that 
is  in  the  right,  and  him  that  is  in  the  wrong.  Look 
back  upon  the  private  contentions,  or  public  commo- 
Jions,  which  infested  the  world  an  hundred  years  ago. 
Where  are  they  who  managed  them?  They  are  all  gone 
down  into  the  dark  and  silent  giave.  Death  hath  decid- 
ed their  controversies,  and  within  a  few  days  it  will  do 
so  with  ours,  and  send  us  all  to  plead  our  cause  before 
our  great  judge;  and  it  will  go  ill  with  us,  if  we  appear 
there  in  malice.  Therefore,  why  should  our  hatred  be 
long,  since  our  life  is  so  short?  One  would  think  we 
should  find  better  employment  for  the  short  time  we 
have  to  spend  here. 

But,  lastly,  and  above  all,  let  us  propose  to  ourselves 
the  blessed  example  of  the  holy  Jesus,  who,  when  he 
was  reviled,  reviled  not  again;  when  he  suffered,  he 
threatened  not;  but  committed  himself  to  him  that  judg- 
eth  righteously. 

Let  us  frequently  remember  what  great  things  he 
hath  done  and  sufl^ered  for  us  poor  sinful  wretches;  even 
while  we  were  enemies  and  rebels  to  him ;  how  that  in 
all  the  passages  of  his  life,  and  all  the  bloody  scene  of 
his  sufferings,  he  was  actuated  by  that  same  charity  and 
love  to  his  enemies  which  he  calls  for  at  our  hands. 
It  was  this  which  moved  him  to  descend  from  heaven, 
and  clothe  himself  with  the  frailties  of  our  nature,  and 
endure  the  troubles  of  a  calamitous  life,  and  the  pains 
of  a  bitter  death,  to  deliver  us  from  that  eternal  misery 
whereinto  we  had  plunged  ourselves.  And  may  not  his 
goodness  and  mercy  to  us,  mollify  our  hearts,  and  over- 
power the  corruption  of  our  revengeful  nature,  and  in- 
spire us  with  earnest  desires  and  resolutions  to  imitate 
his  blessed  example?  After  all  that  he  hath  done  and 
suffered  for  us,  can  we  be  guilty  of  such  a  shameful  in- 
gratitude as  to  deny  him  this  poor  satisfaction  and  ac- 


OF    LOVING    OUR    ENEMIES.  115 

knowledgement,  to  pardon  an  enemy  for  his  sake?  Has 
he  died  for  us  when  we  were  his  enemies,  and  shall  we 
refuse  to  live  at  peace  with  ours?  Remember  with  what 
patience  he  endured  the  contradiction  of  sinners  against 
himself;  with  what  humility  he  did  condescend  to  wash 
the  feet  of  that  wicked  miscreant,  who  was  at  the  same 
time  resolved  to  betray  him;  with  what  mildness  he  did 
bear  the  supine  negligence  and  stupidity  of  his  disciples 
■who  slept  in  the  time  of  his  agony.  What  charity  and 
meekness  did  he  evidence  towards  those  who  sought  his 
life!  He  could  have  called  for  legions  of  angels  to  des- 
troy them,  or  made  the  earth  to  open  her  mouth  and 
swallow  them  up:  but  he  would  not  employ  his  miracu- 
lous power,  save  only  for  their  good,  restoring  a  ser- 
vant's ear,  and  reproving  the  preposterous  zeal  of  him 
who  cut  it  off.  Yea,  while  he  hung  upon  the  cross, 
and  was  approaching  to  the  gates  of  death,  all  the  crael 
pains  of  body  and  far  more  intolerable  pressure  of  spirit 
which  he  then  sustained,  did  not  lessen  his  wonderful 
tenderness  and  affection  for  his  bloody  murderers:  Fath- 
er, forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do. 
Let  us  be  frequent  and  serious  in  the  meditation  of  these 
things.  And  if  we  have  any  veneration  for  the  example 
of  our  Saviour,  and  any  sense  of  his  infinite  mercy,  this 
will  dispose  us  to  the  practice  of  his  precepts,  and  the 
obedience  of  his  laws;  and  particularly  the  observation 
of  this  necessary,  this  reasonable,  and  delightful  duty, 
that  we  love  our  enemies. 


116  THE  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANT-AGE 


THE    NECESSITY    AND    ADVANTAGE    OF    EARLY 
AFFLICTIONS. 


.   LAM.  III.  27,  28. 

It  is  good  for  a  man  that  he  hear  the  yoke  in  his 
youth.  He  sitteth  alone  and  keepeth  silence,  be- 
cause he  hath  borne  it  upon  him. 
The  great  difference  and  contrariety  between  the 
maxims  of  the  world,  and  those  which  religion  doth  pro- 
pose, is  in  nothing  more  obsers^able  than  in  taking  the 
measures  of  happiness  and  felicity.  The  world  account- 
eth  him  a  happy  man  w-ho  enjoyeth  a  perpetual  calm  and 
sunshine  of  prosperity ;  w^hose  pleasant  and  joyful  days 
are  never  overcast  with  any  cloud,  nor  his  tranquillity 
interrupted  by  any  disastrous  accident;  and  who  was 
never  acquainted  with  any  other  change,  but  that  which 
brought  him  the  new  and  fresh  relish  of  succeeding 
pleasures  and  enjoyments.  But  religion  hath  taught  us 
to  look  upon  this  as  a  condition  full  of  danger;  much 
more  to  be  pitied  than  envied;  to  be  feared  than  to  be 
desired.  It  hath  taught  us  to  consider  aflliclions  as  in- 
stances of  the  divine  goodness,  as  tokens  and  pledges 
of  his  love;  (for  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth, 
and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth;)  and  that 
these  severe  dispensations  are  very  necessary,  and  may 
prove  useful  and  advantageous:  Blessed  is  the  man 
(saith  the  Psalmist)  whom  thou  chasteneth,  O  Lord, 
&c.  :  It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted;  that 
I  may  learn  thy  statutes.  And  the  Prophet  in  the  text. 
It  is  good  for  a  man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth. 
He  was  at  this  time  loaded  with  the  heaviest  weight  of 
trouble  and  sorrow,  what  for  the  public  calamities  of 
his  nation,  and  what  for  his  own  particular  suffcrhigs: 
His  eyes  were  running  down  with  rivers  of  water,  for 


OF    EARLY    AFFLICTION.  117 

the  destructions  of  the  daughter  of  his  people;  they 
trickled  down,  and  ceased  not.  Judah  was  gone  into 
captivity  because  of  affliction:  she  dwelt  among  the 
Heathen,  and  found  no  rest;  all  her  persecutors  overtook 
her  in  the  straits.  The  ways  of  Zion  did  mourn,  be- 
cause none  came  to  the  solemn  feasts;  the  young  and 
the  old  were  lying  on  the  ground  in  the  streets;  the  vir- 
gins and  young  men  were  fallen  by  the  sword,  and  the 
few  that  remained  were  starving  for  hunger.  The  peo- 
ple did  sigh,  and  seek  bread;  they  gave  their  pleasant 
things  for  meat  to  relieve  their  soul;  the  children  and 
sucklings  did  swoon  in  the  streets,  their  soul  was  poured 
out  into  their  mother's  bosom;  the  women  did  eat  their 
fruit,  their  children  of  a  span  long.  And  the  Prophet 
had  a  large  share  in  these  calamities,  both  by  his  own 
interest,  and  his  compassion  towards  his  neighbour:  I 
am  the  man  (saith  he)  that  hath  seen  affliction  by  the 
rod  of  his  wrath.  Surely  against  me  is  he  turned;  he 
turneth  his  hand  against  me  all  the  day. 

But  after  he  had  thus  bemoaned  himself,  and  given 
some  vent  to  his  passion  and  sorrow,  he  puts  a  stop  to 
the  current  that  was  grown  too  impetuous,  and  turns 
his  thoughts  another  way.  He  acknowledgeth  the  jus- 
tice of  God's  dispensations;  and  that  it  was  a  favour  they 
suffered  no  more:  This  I  recall  into  my  mind,  therefore 
have  I  hope.  It  is  of  the  Lord's  mercies  that  we  are 
not  consumed,  because  his  compassions  fail  not.  They 
are  new  every  morning.  Nay,  when  he  had  further 
pondered  the  matter,  he  finds  himself  indebted  to  the 
goodness  of  God,  even  for  the  afflictions  he  endured:  It 
is  good  for  a  man,   &c. 

The  bearing  of  the  yoke  is  an  easy  and  obvious  met- 
aphor, importing  the  restraint  of  liberty,  when  our  de- 
sires are  denied,  and  we  have  not  our  wills;  cannot 
ramble  up  and  down  as  we  please;  and  also  the  pressure 
of  afflictions  which  gall  and  torment  us,  under  which  we 
smart  and  groan.  Such  is  the  yoke  which  the  prophet 
tells  us  it  is  good  for  a  man  that  he  bear.  A  strange 
doctrine  indeed  to  flesh  and  blood!  and  O  how  few  do 
believe  it !  We  judge  of  things  by  their  outward  appear- 


118  THE  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE 

ance,  and  as  they  affect  us  at  present,  (now  no  afflic- 
tion or  chastening  seemeth  for  the  present  to  be  joyous, 
but  grievous;)  and  we  cannot  persuade  ourselves  that 
there  is  any  good  in  that  which  we  feel  to  be  troublesome 
and  unpleasant.  But,  if  we  consult  our  reason  and  our 
faith,  they  will  soon  bring  us  to  the  acknowledgement  of 
this  truth,  That  affliction  cometh  not  forth  of  the  dust, 
neither  doth  trouble  spring  out  of  the  ground.  The 
crosses  we  meet  with,  are  not  the  effects  of  blind  chance; 
but  the  results  of  a  wise  and  unerring  providence,  which 
knoweth  what  is  fittest  for  us,  and  loveth  us  better  than 
we  can  do  ourselves.  There  is  no  malice  or  envy  lodg- 
ed in  the  bosom  of  that  blessed  being,  whose  name  and 
nature  is  love.  He  taketh  no  delight  in  the  troubles 
and  miseries  of  his  creatures:  He  doth  not  afflict  willing- 
ly, nor  grieve  the  children  of  men.  It  were  infinitely 
unworthy  of  his  wisdom  and  goodness,  to  please  himself 
in  seeing  such  poor  creatures  as  we  are,  tossed  up  and 
down  in  the  world,  to  behold  our  anguish,  and  hear  our 
groans.  It  is  our  happiness  and  welfare  which  he  de- 
signs in  all  his  dispensations;  and  he  maketh  choice  of 
the  most  proper  and  effectual  means  for  that  end.  He 
Beeth  us  wandering  out  of  the  way,  ready  to  ruin  and  un- 
do ourselves;  and  first  he  essayeth  to  reduce  us  by  mild- 
er and  more  gentle  methods:  he  trieth  our  gratitude  and 
ingenuity,  by  all  the  endearments  of  mercy  and  good- 
ness; he  draweth  us  with  the  cords  of  love,  and  with 
the  bands  of  a  man.  But  if  we  break  all  these  bands 
asunder,  and  cast  away  these  cords  from  us;  if  we  abuse 
his  goodness,  and  turn  his  grace  into  wantonness;  then,  • 
not  only  his  justice,  but  his  love  to  us,  not  only  his  ha- 
tred to  sin  but  his  affection  unto  us,  will  oblige  him  to 
alter  his  method,  and  take  the  rod  in  his  hand,  and  try 
what  severity  can  do.  God's  design  in  afflicting  us  is 
excellently  expressed  by  the  author  to  the  Hebrews, 
chap.  xii.  ver.  10.  He  chasteneth  us  for  our  profit,  that 
we  may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness.  Holiness  is  the 
highest  perfection  and  greatest  happiness  we  are  capable 
of:  it  is  a  real  participation  of  the  divine  nature,  the 
image  of  God  drawn  on  the  soul;  and  all  the  chastise- 


OF    EARLY    AFFLICTIONS.  119 

ments  we  meet  with,  are  designed  to  reduce  ns  to  this 
blessed  temper,  to  make  us  like  unto  himself;  and  there- 
by capable  to  be  happy  with  him  to  all  eternity.  This 
will  more  clearly  appear,  if  we  reflect  on  the  natural 
temper  of  our  minds,  and  the  influence  which  prosper- 
ous or  adverse  fortune  is  wont  to  have  upon  them. 

And,  first,  we  are  naturally  proud  and  self-conceited; 
we  have  a  high  esteem  of  ourselves,  and  would  have 
every  body  else  to  value  and  esteem  us.  This  disease 
is  very  deeply  rooted  in  our  corrupt  nature:  it  is  ordina- 
rily the  first  sin  that  bewrays  itself  in  the  little  actions 
and  passions  of  children;  and  many  times  the  last  which 
religion  enables  us  to  overcome.  And  such  is  the  ma- 
lignity of  its  nature,  that  it  renders  us  odious  and  vile 
both  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man.  It  cannot  but  be  in- 
finitely displeasing  to  that  great  and  glorious  Majesty, 
to  see  such  silly  creatures  whom  he  hath  brought  forth 
out  of  nothing,  and  who  are  every  moment  ready  to  re- 
turn into  it  again,  and  have  nothing  of  their  own  but  fol- 
ly, and  misery,  and  sin;  to  see  such  creatures  I  say, 
either  so  blind  as  to  value  themselves,  or  so  unreason- 
able as  to  desire  others  to  value  them.  Good  men  must 
needs  hate  us  for  it,  because  God  doth  so;  and  evil  men 
hate  us  for  it,  because  they  are  proud  themselves,  and 
so  are  jealous  of  the  attempts  of  others  to  exalt  them- 
selves, as  of  that  which  tendeth  to  depress  and  diminish 
them.  Pride  alone  is  the  source  and  fountain  of  almost 
all  the  disorders  in  the  world;  of  all  our  troubles,  and 
of  all  our  sins:  and  we  shall  never  be  truly  happy,  or 
truly  good,  till  we  come  to  think  nothing  of  ourselves, 
and'  be  content  that  all  the  world  think  nothing  of  us. 
Now,  there  is  nothing  hath  a  more  natural  tendency  to 
foment  and  heighten  this  natural  corruption,  than  con- 
stant prosperity  and  success.  The  Psalmist,  speaking 
of  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  who  are  not  in  trouble 
as  others,  neither  are  they  plagued  like  other  men,  pres- 
ently subjoineth  the  eflect,  Therefore  pride  compasseth 
them  about  as  a  chain.  Sanctified  afflictions  contribute 
to  abate  and  mortify  the  pride  of  our  hearts,  to  prick  the 
swelling  imposthume,  to  make  us  sensible  of  our  weak- 


120  THE  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE 

ness,  and  convince  us  of  our  sins.  Thus  doth  God  open 
the  ears  of  men,  and  seal  their  instruction,  that  he  may 
withdraw  man  from  his  purpose,  and  hide  pride  from 
man.  And  if  they  be  bound  in  fetters,  and  be  holden 
in  cords  of  affliction;  then  he  showeth  them  their  work, 
and  their  transgressions  that  they  have  exceeded.  Af- 
flictions do  both  put  us  on  the  search  to  find  out  the  of- 
fences wherewith  we  have  provoked  God,  and  make  us 
more  sensible  of  the  heinousness  and  malignity  of  their 
nature  :  1  have  surely  heard  Ephraim  bemoaning  himself 
thus.  Thou  hath  chastised  me,  and  I  was  chastised,  as  a 
bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke:  turn  thou  me,  and  I 
shall  be  turned;  for  thou  art  the  Lord  my  God.  Surely 
after  I  was  chastised,  I  repented;  and  after  I  was  in- 
structed, I  smote  upon  my  thigh:  I  was  ashamed,  yea, 
even  confounded,  because  I  did  bear  the  reproach  of 
my  youth. 

Another  distemper  of  our  minds,  is  our  too  great  affec- 
tion to  the  world  and  worldly  things.  We  are  all  too 
apt  to  set  our  hearts  wholly  upon  them;  to  take  up  our 
rest,  and  seek  our  happiness  and  satisfaction  in  them. 
But  God  knows,  that  these  may  well  divert  and  amuse  a 
while,  they  can  never  satisfy  or  make  us  happy;  that  the 
souls  which  he  made  for  himself,  can  never  rest,  till 
they  return  unto  him:  and  therefore  he  many  times  find- 
eth  it  necessary,  either  to  remove  our  comforts,  or  im- 
bitter  them  unto  us;  to  put  aloes  and  wormwood  on  the 
breasts  of  the  world,  that  thereby  we  may  wean  our- 
selves from  it,  and  carry  them  to  the  end  of  their  being, 
the  fountain  of  their  blessedness  and  felicity.  The  few 
and  little  comforts  of  this  life,  (saith  a  person  of  great 
quality  and  worth,)  notwithstanding  all  the  troubles  and 
crosses  with  which  they  are  interlarded,  are  apt  to  keep 
the  hearts  even  of  good  men  in  too  great  love  of  this 
world.  What  would  become  of  us,  if  our  whole  life 
should  be  altogether  prosperous  and  contenting,  without 
any  ititermixture  of  crosses  and  afflictions?  It  is  too  prob- 
able we  should  never  look  any  father;  but  conclude, 
with  Peter  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration.  Lord,  it  ia 
good  to  be  here.     As  Almighty  God  bath  a  very  great 


or    EARLY    AFFLICTIONS.  121 

afffection  to  us,  so  he  is  very  desirous  of  our  love;  not 
that  it  bringeth  any  advantage  to  him,  but  because  it  is 
our  greatest  happiness  and  perfection.  He  bestoweth 
his  mercies  to  gain  our  hearts;  but,  when  we  begin  to 
doat  on  the  gifts,  and  forget  the  giver,  he  becomes  jeal- 
ous, and  takes  them  away,  that  he  may  not  have  any 
rival  in  our  affection.  And  certainly  it  is  no  small  advan- 
tage to  have  our  hearts  in  any  measure  loosened  from 
the  world,  disentangled  from  every  thing  here  below. 
Quocunqne  pretio  bene  emitur:  He  makes  a  good 
purchase  who  obtains  it,  let  it  cost  him  never  so  dear. 

Another  bad  effect  which  prosperity  is  wont  to  pro- 
duce in  our  corrupt  nature,  is,  that  it  makes  us  forgetful 
of  God,  and  unthankful  of  his  mercies.  When  second 
causes  answer  our  expectations  and  desires,  we  are  sel- 
dom wont  to  look  beyond  them:  we  never  regard  the 
fountain  till  the  cisterns  begin  to  fail.  This  it  was  that 
made  Agur  to  pray  against  a  plentiful  fortune,  lest  I  be 
full,  and  deny  thee,  and  say,  Who  is  the  Lord?  W^hen 
the  weather  is  fair,  and  the  sails  are  filled  with  a  pios- 
perous  gale,  the  rough  and  stubborn  mariners  are  seldom 
at  their  devotion;  but  when  the  storm  is  risen,  and  the 
sea  begins  to  swell,  and  every  wave  threateneth  to  de- 
vour them:  then  they  cry  to  the  Lord  in  their  trouble, 
as  on  him  who  can  alone  deliver  them  out  of  their  dis- 
tress. The  Psalmist  speaking  of  their  stiff-necked  and 
rebellious  predecessors,  tells  us,  that  when  God  slew 
them,  then  they  sought  him;  and  they  remembered  that 
God  was  their  rock,  and  the  high  God  their  redeemer. 
In  their  affliction  (saith  the  Lord  by  the  Prophet)  they 
will  seek  me  early.  I  doubt  not  a  great  many  devout 
persons  will  acknowledge,  that  it  was  some  affliction  or 
other  that  first  taught  them  to  pray.  And  as  afflictions 
contribute  to  make  us  remember  our  dependence  on 
God,  and  then  excite  us  to  seek  unto  him;  so  also  they 
render  us  more  sensible  of  our  obligations  unto  him,  and 
more  thankful  for  the  mercies  he  hath  bestowed  on  us. 
We  are  so  dull  and  insensible,  that  we  seldom  value 
any  of  the  divine  mercies,  till  we  find  what  it  is  to  want 
them.     We  put  verv  little  value  on  our  food  and  rai 

n 


122  THE   NECESSITY  AND  ADVAJfTAGB 

ment,  and  the  ordinary  means  of  our  subsistence,  un- 
less we  have  been  sometimes  pinched  with  want.  Vv"e 
consider  not  how  much  we  are  indebted  to  God  lor  pre- 
serving our  friends,  till  some  of  them  be  removed  from 
us.  How  little  do  we  prize  our  health,  if  we  have  never 
had  experience  of  sickness  or  pain!  Where  is  the  man 
who  doth  seriously  bless  God  for  his  nightly  quiet  and 
repose?  And  yet,  if  sickness  or  trouble  deprive  us  of  it, 
w^e  then  fmd  it  to  have  been  a  great  and  valuable  mer- 
cy, and  that  it  is  God  who  giveth  his  beloved  sleep. 

Once  more,  prosperity  rendereth  us  msensible  of  the 
miseries  and  calamites  of  others.  Those  who  were  at 
ease  in  Zion,  did  not  grieve  for  the  afflictions  of  Joseph. 
But  afflictions  do  soften  the  heart,  and  make  it  more 
tender  and  kindly;  and  we  are  always  most  ready  to 
compassionate  those  griefs  which  ourselves  have  some- 
time endured:  the  sufferings  of  others  make  the  deepest 
impressions  upon  us,  when  they  put  us  in  mind  of  our 
own.  It  is  mentioned  as  a  powerful  motive  to  engage 
the  children  of  Israel  to  be  kind  and  merciful  to  stran- 
gers, that  they  knew  very  well  the  heart  of  a  stranger, 
having  been  strangers  themselves  in  Egypt.  Now,  this 
tender  and  compassionate  temper  doth  w^ell  become  a 
Christian,  whose  duty  it  is  to  weep  with  those  that  weep 
and  to  have  as  deep  a  sense  and  feeling  of  the  griefs  of 
others,  as  he  is  wont  to  have  of  his  own. 

These  and  many  more  advantages  do  sanctified  and 
well-improved  afflictions  bring  to  a  Christian;  on  the 
account  of  which  it  is  good  for  him  that  he  hath  borne 
the  yoke.  But  I  hasten  to  that  which  is  mentioned  in 
the  text.  Only  by  the  way  (that  I  may  not  need  to 
return)  let  me  take  notice  of  the  season  which  is  here 
mentioned  as  the  fittest  for  a  man  to  bear  affliction:  It 
is  good  for  a  man  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth. 

We  are  all  willing  to  put  off  the  evil  day;  and,  if  we 
must  needs  bear  the  yoke,  we  would  choose  to  have  it 
delayed  till  we  grow  old.  We  think  it  sad  to  have  our 
morning  overcast  with  clouds,  to  meet  with  a  storm  be- 
fore we  have  well  launched  forth  from  the  shore.  We 
are  wont  to  indulge  and  applaud  children  and  young 


OF    EARLY    AFFLICTIOXS.  123 

folks  In  their  frolics  and  jovial  humours;  and  tell  them, 
they  will  have  time  enough  for  cares  and  troubles  when 
they  grow  older:  w^e  turn  that  irony  of  Solomon's  into  a 
serious  advice,  Rejoice,  O  young  man,  in  thy  youth, 
and  walk  in  the  ways  of  thy  heart,  and  the  sight  of  thine 
eyes.  But  the  divine  wisdom,  which  knoweth  what  is 
fit  for  us,  doth  many  times  make  choice  of  our  younger 
yeai;s,  as  the  most  proper  to  accustom  us  to  the  bearing 
of  the  yoke.  And  a  little  consideration  will  make  us 
discover  the  advantages  of  this  season  for  suffering  afflic- 
tions; they  being  at  that  time  most  necessary,  most  tol- 
erable, and  most  advantageous.  First,  I  say,  they  are 
then  most  necessary.  For  youth  is  the  time  of  our  life 
wherein  we  are  in  greatest  danger  to  run  into  wild  and 
extravagant  courses:  our  blood  is  hot,  and  our  spirits 
unstaid  and  giddy;  we  have  too  much  pride  to  be  gov- 
erned by  others,  and  too  little  wisdom  to  govern  our- 
selves. The  yoke  is  then  especially  needful  to  tame 
our  wildness,  and  reduce  us  to  a  due  staidness  and 
composure  of  mind.  Then  also  it  is  most  supportable. 
The  body  is  strong  and  healthful,  less  apt  to  be  affected 
with  the  troubles  of  the  mind;  the  spirit  stout  and  vig- 
orous, will  not  so  easily  break  and  sink  under  them. 
Old  age  is  a  burden,  and  will  soon  faint  under  any 
supervenient  load.  The  smallest  trouble  is  enough  co 
bring  down  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  And 
therefore,  since  we  must  meet  with  afflictions,  it  is  cer- 
tainly a  favourable  circumstance,  to  have  them  at  the 
time  of  our  life  wherein  we  are  most  able  to  endure 
them.  And,  lastly,  the  lessons  which  afflictions  teach 
us,  are  then  most  advantageous  when  we  learn  them 
betimes,  that  we  may  have  the  use  of  them  in  the  con- 
duct of  our  after  lives.  An  early  engagement  into  the 
ways  of  religion  is  a  great  felicity;  and  the  means  where- 
by this  is  to  be  effected  can  never  be  too  soon  adminis- 
tered. Youth  is  more  soft  and  pliable;  and  evil  disposi- 
tions are  more  easily  cured,  before  time  and  custom 
have  hardened  us  in  them.  A  tree  needs  little  force  to 
be^id  it  when  it  is  young;  and  there  needeth  the  less  of 
the  rod,  if  the  child  be  brought  under  discipline  betimes. 


124  THE   NECESSITY   AND  ADVANTAGE 

And  thus  on  many  accounts  it  is  good  for  a  man  to  bear 
the  yoke  in  his  youth. 

We  proceed  to  the  particular  advantage  of  afflictions 
which  is  mentioned  in  the  text:  He  sitteth  alone  and 
keepeth  silence,  because  he  hath  borne  it  upon  him. 
The  words  are  capable  of  a  twofold  interpretation,  and 
both  suit  well  with  the  purpose:  for  we  may  either  un- 
derstand them  properly,  of  solitude  and  silence;  or  met- 
aphorically, of  patience  and  quiet  submission;  both  of 
which  are  the  good  effects  of  sanctified  and  well-im- 
proved afflictions:  and  accordingly  we  shall  say  some- 
thing to  both.  Nature  hath  made  us  sociable  creatures; 
but  corruption  hath  carried  this  inclination  unto  excess; 
so  that  most  persons  think  it  an  intolerable  burden  to 
be  any  considerable  time  alone.  Though  they  love 
themselves  out  of  measure,  yet  they  cannot  endure  their 
own  conversation;  they  had  rather  be  hearing  and  dis- 
coursing of  the  most  naughty  and  trivial  things,  than  be 
sitting  alone  and  holding  their  peace.  Outward  pros- 
perity heightens  this  humour.  When  the  heart  is  dila- 
ted with  joy,  it  seekeih  to  vent  itself  in  every  company. 
When  a  man  is  free  of  trouble  and  cares,  he  thinks  of 
nothing  but  how  to  please  himself  with  variety  of  diver- 
sions and  conversations.  Crosses,  on  the  other  hand, 
lender  a  man  pensive  and  solitary;  they  stop  the  mouth, 
and  bind  up  the  tongue,  and  incline  the  person  to  be 
much  alone.  Sadness  makes  his  company  disagreeable 
to  others,  and  he  fiudeth  theirs  as  little  agreeable  to  him: 
He  sitteth  alone  and  keepeth  silence,  because  he  hath 
borne  it  upon  him.  Thus  the  same  prophet  said,  I  sat 
not  in  the  assembly  of  the  mockers,  nor  rejoiced:  I  sat 
alone  because  of  thine  hand. 

Now,  he  who  considers,  on  the  one  hand,  the  guilt 
we  are  wont  to  contract,  and  the  prejudice  which  we 
sustain,  by  too  much  conversation  with  others,  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  excellent  improvement  we  may 
make  of  solitude  and  retirement,  will  account  it  a  good 
effect  of  afflictions,  that  they  incline  and  dispose  us  unto 
it  In  considering  the  evils  of  frequent  conversation, 
we  are  not  to  prosecute  the  grosser  and  more  scandaloua 


OF    EARLY    AFFLICTIONS.  125 

vices  of  the  tongue.  It  might  seem  a  poor  commenda- 
tion of  solitude  and  silence,  that  a  man  is  not  swearing, 
or  lying,  or  scolding,  or  talking  profanely  when  he  is 
alone:  a  man  may  converse  enough,  and  keep  himself 
free  from  these.  We  rather  choose  to  mention  such 
evils  as  are  wont  to  be  less  noticed,  and  can  be  more 
hardly  avoided. 

And,  first,  experience  may  teach  us  all,  that  much 
conversation  doth  ordinarily  beget  a  remissness  and  dis- 
solution of  spirit;  that  it  slackeneth and  relaxeth  the  bent 
of  our  minds,  and  disposeth  us  to  softness  and  easy  com- 
pliances. We  find  it  hard  enough  at  any  time  to  com- 
pose our  spirits  to  that  staidness  and  severity  which 
religion  doth  require:  but  if  we  be  too  much  in  company 
with  others,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  maintain  it. 
That  cheerfulness  and  complaisance  which  is  judged 
necessary  to  render  conversation  agreeable,  doth  easily 
degenerate  into  levity  and  sin:  and  we  are  very  ready 
to  displease  our  maker,  when  we  are  too  intent  on 
pleasing  our  friends.  This  loose  frame  and  dissipation 
of  mind,  which  society  doth  occasion,  made  a  good 
man  complain.  Ex  hominimi  consortia  semper  venio 
minus  hofno:  that  he  always  came  out  of  company 
less  a  man. 

Another  prejudice  we  receive  by  society,  is,  that  it 
fills  our  minds  with  noxious  images,  and  fortifies  our 
corrupt  notions  and  opinions  of  things.  Our  hearts  are 
naturally  too  much  addicted  to  the  things  of  the  world; 
we  mind  them  too  much,  and  put  too  high  a  value  up- 
on them:  and  the  discourses  we  hear  redouble  the  temp- 
tation, by  bringing  them  continually  into  our  thoughts, 
and  setting  them  off  to  the  greatest  advantage.  When 
we  are  alone  in  a  sober  temper,  and  take  time  to  reflect 
and  consider  of  things,  we  are  sometimes  persuaded  of 
the  vanity  and  worthlessness  of  all  those  glittering  trifles 
whereunto  the  generality  of  mankind  are  so  sadly  be- 
witched: but  when  we  come  abroad,  and  listen  to  the 
common  talk,  and  hear  people  speak  of  greatness,  and 
riches,  and  honour,  with  concern  and  admiration,  we 
quickly  forget  our  more  sober  and  deliberate  thoughts, 
H* 


126  THE  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE 

and  suffer  ourselves  to  be  carried  away  with  the  strea'm 
of  the  common  opinion.  And  though  the  effects  be 
not  so  sudden  and  observable,  yet  these  discourses  are 
still  making  some  secret  and  insensible  impressions, 
upon  us. 

Thus  also  is  our  judgment  corrupted  about  the  qual- 
ities and  endowments  of  the  mind.  Courage  and  gal- 
lantry, wit  and  eloquence,  and  other  accomplishments 
of  this  nature,  are  magnified  and  extolled  beyond  all 
measure;  whereas  humility,  and  meekness,  and  devo- 
tion, and  all  those  Christian  graces  which  render  a  soul 
truly  excellent  and  lovely,  are  spoken  of  as  mean  and 
contemptible  thmgs:  for  though  men  have  not  the  impu- 
dence formally  to  make  the  comparison,  and  prefer  the 
former;  yet  their  very  air,  and  way  of  discoursing  about 
these  things,  sufficiently  testifies  their  opinion.  With 
what  affection  and  concernment  will  they  represent  a 
gallant  or  learned  man;  but  how  faintly  do  they  utter 
the  character  of  a  good  man!  And  so,  in  censuring 
men's  failings,  they  exaggerate  the  smallest  instances  of 
weakness  or  imprudence,  but  speak  lightly  enough  of  the 
greatest  crimes.  Drunkenness  and  whoredom  are  men- 
tioned in  such  terms  as  express  little  sense  of  their  hei- 
nous nature;  and  tend  to  lessen  the  horror  we  should 
have  of  them.  Ambition  and  revenge,  and  such  other 
plausible  vices,  are  rather  allowed  than  condemned. 
And  while  we  converse  in  the  world,  and  are  accustom- 
ed to  such  representations  of  things,  our  judgments  are 
thereby  exceedingly  corrapted,  and  we  entertain  false 
and  pernicious  maxims.  And  so  hard  it  is  to  guard 
ourselves  against  the  contagion,  that  we  had  better  eit 
alone  and  keep  silence,  thiin  be  continually  exposed  to 
the  temptation. 

I  shall  mention  but  another  of  those  evils  wherewith 
our  conversation  is  commonly  attended.  The  most  or- 
dinary subject  of  our  entertainments  are  the  faults  and 
follies  of  others.  Itur  in  verba,  serino  seritur,  vita 
aliena,  descrihitur:  We  meet  and  talk,  and  fall  to 
describe  the  life  and  deportment  of  others.  Were  this 
one  theme  of  discourse  discharged,  we  would  oft-times 


OF    EARLY    AFFLICTI0iN-f3.  127 

find  but  little  to  say.  I  scarce  know  any  fault  whereof 
good  persons  are  so  frequently  guilty,  and  so  little  sen- 
sible. They  know  perhaps  the  things  are  true,  and 
ihey  have  no  malicious  design  in  reporting  them;  they 
tell  them  only  as  they  do  the  public  news,  to  divert 
themselves,  and  gratify  their  friends.  But,  would  we 
consult  our  own  hearts,  and  apply  the  great  rule  of 
righteousness,  of  doing  unto  others  as  we  would  be 
done  unto  ourselves,  we  should  soon  be  convinced  of  a 
great  deal  more  guilt  and  sinfulness  in  such  discourses 
than  we  are  wont  to  apprehend.  How  ill  do  we  take 
it  to  have  our  own  failings  thus  exposed,  and  to  hear 
that  any  person  hath  made  as  bold  with  us  as  we  are 
wont  to  make  with  others?  Again,  how  loth  would  we 
be,  that  the  persons  of  whom  we  speak  so  freely,  should 
overhear  our  discourse,  or  be  informed  of  it?  Now,  if 
the  practice  had  nothing  blamable  in  it,  why  should  we 
be  so  shy  to  avow  it? 

I  have  only  hinted  at  these  things:  but  he  who  shall 
seriously  ponder  them,  will  acknowledge,  there  is  no 
little  prejudice  even  in  those  entertainments  which  pass 
for  very  innocent  in  the  world;  and  that  he  shunneth 
much  guilt  and  many  snares  who  sitteth  alone  and 
keepeth  silence.  But  solitude  and  retirement  do  not 
only  deliver  us  from  these  inconveniences,  but  also 
afford  very  excellent  opportunities  for  bettering  our 
souls.  Those  hours  we  mispend  in  needless  visits  and 
idle  talk,  if  rightly  improved,  might  set  us  a  great  way 
forward  on  our  journey  to  heaven.  While  we  are  too 
busy  in  making  or  entertaining  acquaintance  with  men, 
we  many  times  fall  out  of  acquaintance  both  with  God 
and  ourselves. 

The  most  profane  and  irreligious  persons  will  find 
some  serious  thoughts  rise  in  their  minds  if  they  be 
much  alone.  And  the  more  that  any  person  is  advanc- 
ed in  piety  and  goodness,  the  more  will  he  delight  in 
retirement,  and  receive  the  more  benefit  by  it.  Then 
it  is  that  the  devout  soul  takes  its  highest  flight  in  di- 
vme  contemplations  and  maketh  its  nearest  approaches 
to  God.     I  find  the  vulgar  Latin  rendereth  the  words 


128  THE  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE 

of  the  text,  Sedebit  solitarius  et  tacebit,  quia  levaiiit 
se  supra  se:  The  solitary  person  will  sit  still  and  hold 
his  peace,  because  he  hath  lifted  up  himself  above  him- 
self: raised  his  spirit  above  his  ordinary  pitch.  In  soli- 
tudine  (saith  one  of  the  fathers)  aer  j^urior,  cesium 
apertius,  familiarior  Deus:  In  solitude  we  breathe, 
as  it  were,  in  a  purer  air,  heaven  is  more  open  unto  us, 
and  God  is  more  familiar  and  frequent  in  his  visits.  To 
which  purpose  some  have  applied  that  of  the  Prophet 
Hosea,  Behold  I  will  allure  her,  and  bring  her  into  the 
wilderness,  and  there  speak  comfortably  unto  her;  or, 
as  the  original  importeth,  I  will  speak  unto  her  heart. 
That  rule  which  our  Saviour  giveth  for  our  devotion,  to 
enter  into  our  closet,  and  shut  the  door  behind  us,  is  as 
necessary  to  preserve  us  from  distraction,  as  from  vanity 
and  ostentation.  When  we  have  retired  as  much  as  we 
can  from  the  world,  we  do  still  carry  too  much  of  it 
along  with  us.  The  images  of  things  do  sufficiently 
persecute  and  disturb  us,  though  we  be  not  exposed  to 
the  objects  themselves.  Our  blessed  Saviour  thought 
not  the  mountains  and  deserts  retired  enough  for  his  de- 
votions; but  would  add  the  darkness  and  silence  of  the 
night.  Little  doth  the  world  understand  those  secret 
and  hidden  pleasures  which  devout  souls  do  feel,  when, 
having  got  out  of  the  noise  and  hurry  of  the  world,  they 
sit  alone  and  keep  silence,  contemplating  the  divine 
perfections,  which  shine  so  conspicuously  in  all  his 
works  of  wonder;  admiring  his  greatness,  and  wisdom, 
and  love,  and  revolving  his  favours  towards  themselves; 
opening  before  him  their  griefs  and  their  cares,  and  dis- 
burdening their  souls  into  his  bosom;  protesting  their 
allegiance  and  subjection  unto  him,  and  telling  him  a 
thousand  times  that  they  love  him;  and  then  listening 
unto  the  voice  of  God  within  their  hearts,  that  still  and 
quiet  voice,  which  is  not  wont  to  be  heard  in  the  streets, 
that  they  may  hear  what  God  the  Lord  will  speak:  for 
he  will  speak  peace  unto  his  people,  and  to  his  saints, 
and  visit  them  with  the  expressions  of  his  love.  No 
wonder  if  those  blessed  souls  who  have  tasted  the  pleas- 
ures of  holy  retirement,  and  found  themselves,  as  it 


OF    EARLY    AFFLICTIONS.  129 

were,  in  the  suburbs  of  heaven,  grow  weary  of  com- 
pany and  affairs,  and  long  for  the  returning  of  those 
happy  hours,  as  the  hirehng  for  the  shades  of  the  eve- 
ning: no  wonder  they  pity  the  foolish  busy  world,  who 
spend  their  days  in  vanity,  and  know  not  what  it  is 
indeed  to  live. 

But  here  I  would  not  be  mistaken,  as  if  I  recommend- 
ed a  total  and  constant  retirement,  or  persuaded  men 
to  forsake  the  world,  and  betake  themselves  unto  des- 
erts. No,  certainly;  we  must  not  abandon  the  stations 
wherein  God  hath  placed  us,  nor  render  ourselves  use- 
less to  mankind.  Solitude  hath  its  temptations,  and  we 
may  be  sometimes  very  bad  company  to  ourselves.  It 
was  not  without  reason  that  a  wise  person  warned 
another,  who  professed  to  delight  in  conversing  with 
himself.  Vide  ut  cum  homine  probo:  Have  a  care  that 
you  be  keeping  company  with  a  good  man.  Abused 
solitude  may  whet  men's  passions,  and  irritate  their  lusts, 
and  prompt  them  to  things  which  company  would  re- 
strain. And  this  made  one  say,  that  he  who  is  much 
alone,  must  either  be  a  saint  or  devil.  Melancholy, 
which  inclines  men  most  to  retirement,  is  often  too 
much  nourished  and  fomented  by  it;  and  there  is  a 
peevish  and  sullen  loneliness,  which  some  people  afl^ect 
under  their  troubles,  whereby  they  feed  on  discontented 
thoughts,  and  find  a  kind  of  perverse  pleasure  in  refus- 
ing to  be  comforted.  But  all  this  says  no  more,  but 
that  good  things  may  be  abused ;  and  excess  or  disorder 
may  turn  the  most  wholesome  food  into  poison.  And 
therefore,  though  I  would  not  indifferently  recommend 
much  solitude  unto  all;  yet,  sure,  I  may  say,  it  were 
good  for  the  most  part  of  men  that  they  were  less  in 
company,  and  more  alone. 

Thus  much  of  the  first  and  proper  sense  of  sitting 
alone  and  keeping  silence.  We  told  you  it  might  also 
import  a  quiet  and  patient  submission  to  the  will  of 
God;  the  laying  of  our  hand  on  our  mouth,  that  no  ex- 
pression of  murmur  or  discontent  may  escape  us.  I 
was  dumb,  said  the  Psalmist,  I  opened  not  my  mouth; 
because  thou  didst  it.     And  the  Prophet  describeth  our 


130      THE  NECESSITY  AND  ADVANTAGE,  &C. 

Saviour's  patience,  that  he  was  oppressed,  and  was  af- 
flicted, yet  he  opened  not  his  mouth:  he  was  brought 
as  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  and  as  a  sheep  before  the 
shearers  is  dumb,  so  he  opened  not  his  mouth.  Indeed 
a  modest  and  unaffected  silence  is  a  good  way  to  ex- 
press our  submission  to  the  hand  of  God  under  atflic- 
tions.  The  Heathen  moralists,  who  pretend  much  to 
patience,  could  never  hold  their  peace;  but  desired  al- 
ways to  signalize  themselves  by  some  fetches  of  wit, 
and  expressions  of  unusual  courage.  But  certainly  the 
mute  and  quiet  Christian  behaveth  himself  much  better. 
Loc quacissimum  illud  silentiian:  That  eloquent  and 
expressive  silence  saith  more  than  all  their  vain  and 
Stoical  boastings.  We  cannot  now  insist  in  any  length 
on  this  Christian  duty  of  patience,  and  submission  to 
the  will  of  God;  we  shall  only  say  two  things  of  it, 
which  the  text  importeth.  First,  that  this  lesson  is 
most  commonly  learned  in  the  school  of  afilictions:  He 
sitteth  alone  and  keepeth  silence,  because  he  hath  borne 
it  upon  him.  In  that  forecited  place  of  .Teremiah  xxxi. 
18.  Ephraim  bemoaning  himself,  acknowledgeth  that  he 
had  been  as  a  bullock  unaccustomed  to  the  yoke;  which 
maketh  the  greater  reluclancy  against  it.  Children  that 
are  much  indulged,  are  the  more  impatient  if  they  come 
to  be  crossed;  and  there  is  too  much  of  the  child  in  us 
all.  The  Apostle  tells  us,  that  tribulation  worketh  pa- 
tience. Custom  makes  every  thing  more  tolerable  un- 
to us;  and  if  it  please  God  to  sanctify  the  first  stroke, 
the  second  is  received  with  the  greater  submission.  The 
other  thing  I  have  to  say  on  this  duty,  is,  that  this  ad- 
vantage of  afflictions  is  very  great  and  desirable;  that  it 
is  indeed  ver)'^  good  for  a  man  to  have  borne  the  yoke 
in  his  youth,  if  he  hath  thereby  learned  to  sit  alone 
and  keep  silence  when  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is  upon 
him.  There  is  nothing  more  acceptable  unto  God,  no 
object  more  lovely  and  amiable  in  his  eyes,  than  a  soul 
thus  prostrate  before  him,  thus  entirely  resigned  unto  his 
holy  will,  thus  quietly  submitting  to  his  severest  dispen- 
sations. Nor  is  it  less  advantageous  unto  ourselves;  but 
sweeteneth  the    bitterest  occurrences  of  our  life,  and 


A  SMALL   NUMBER  SAVED  131 

makes  us  relish  an  inward  and  secret  pleasure,  notwith- 
standing all  the  smart  of  affliction:  so  that  the  yoke  be- 
comes supportable,  the  rod  itself  comforts  us;  and  we 
find  much  more  delight  in  suffering  the  will  of  God, 
than  if  he  had  granted  us  our  own.  Now,  to  this  God 
who  loveth  us,  and  correcteth  us  for  our  profit,  that  we 
may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness,  and  thereby  of  his 
happiness;  to  God  the  Father,  Son,  and  blessed  Spirit, 
be  all  honour,  praise,  and  glory,  now  and  for  ever. 
Amen. 

THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT  A  SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED. 


LUKE  XIII.  23. 

Then  said  one  unto  him.  Lord,  are  there  few  that 
be  saved?  And  he  said  unto  them,  4*c. 
Those  who  have  so  much  charity  and  goodness  as 
to  be  nearly  touched  with  the  interests  of  mankind,  can- 
not but  be  more  especially  concerned  about  their  ever- 
lasting condition;  and  very  anxious  to  know  what  shall 
become  of  poor  mortals  when  this  scene  is  over,  and 
they  cease  to  appear  on  the  stpf^e  of  the  world,  being 
called  off  to  give  an  account  of  their  deportment  on  it. 
And,  seeing  we  are  assured  that  there  are  different,  and 
very  opposite  estates  of  departed  souls,  some  being  ad- 
mitted into  happiness,  and  others  doomed  to  misery, 
beyond  any  thing  that  we  can  conceive;  this  may  put 
them  upon  farther  inquiry,  how  mankind  is  like  to  be 
divided?  whether  heaven  or  hell  shall  have  the  greater 
share?  Such  a  laudable  curiosity  as  this  it  was,  that  put 
one  of  our  blessed  Saviour's  followers  to  propose  the 
question  in  the  text.  Lord,  are  there  few  that  be  saved? 
Our  Saviour  had  been  lately  foretelling  the  great  success 
the  gospel  should  have;  how,  like  a  little  leaven  that 
quickly  fermenteth  the  ^vhole  lump  it  is  put  into,  Chris- 


183  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT 

tiaml;y  should  soon  propagate  itself  through  the  world, 
and  many  nations  embrace  the  profession  of  it.  This 
disciple,  it  seems,  was  desirous  to  know,  whether  the 
efficacy  should  be  answerable  to  the  extent?  whether  it 
should  take  as  deep  root  in  the  hearts  of  those  that 
owned  it,  as  it  was  to  spread  itself  far  and  wide  on  the 
face  of  the  earth?  in  a  word,  whether  the  greatest  part 
of  men  were  to  be  saved  by  it?  I  called  this  a  laudable 
curiosity;  and  there  is  reason  to  think  it  so,  since  our 
Saviour  himself,  who  best  knew  the  occasion  and  im- 
portance of  it,  doth  not  check,  but  satisfy  the  inquiry; 
which  he  was  wont  to  do  when  the  questions  were  use- 
less or  blamable.  Those  who  inquired  into  the  time 
of  the  general  judgment,  received  no  other  account, 
but  that  it  was  inter  arcana  imperii;  among  those 
secrets  which  God  reserved  for  himself.  And,  again, 
when  they  asked  of  the  time  that  the  kingdom  should 
be  restored  unto  Israel,  he  tells  them  roundly,  it  was  not 
for  them,  it  concerned  them  not  at  all  to  know  such 
things  as  those.  But  here,  as  the  question  seems  to 
have  proceeded  from  a  zeal  to  the  honour  of  God,  and 
concernment  in  the  happiness  of  mankind ;  so  the  reso- 
lution of  it  might  be  very  useful:  and  accordingly  it  is 
improved  by  our  Saviour;  who  at  once  resolves  th© 
doubt,  and  presseth  a  very  weighty  exhortation,  in  the 
following  words.  Strive  to  enter  in,  &c.  We  are  not 
at  this  time  to  prosecute  the  whole  importance  of  this 
latter  verse;  for  that  we  refer  you  to  an  excellent  ser- 
mon, entitled.  The  way  to  happiness.  We  shall  only 
consider  the  answer  which  is  implied  in  it  to  the  fore- 
going question;  to  wit,  that  the  number  of  those  who 
are  to  be  saved  is  really  small. 

It  is  on  this  point  we  design  to  fix  our  meditations  at 
this  time.  And  indeed  there  is  scarce  any  doctrine  that 
needeth  to  be  more  inculcated:  for,  amongst  all  the 
stratagems  whereby  the  great  enemy  of  mankind  doth 
plot  and  contrive  their  ruin,  few  are  more  unhappily 
successful,  than  the  fond  persuasion  he  hath  filled 
them  with,  that  heaven  and  everlasting  happiness  are 
easily  attainable.     What  one  saith  of  wisdom,  Multi 


A  SMALL   NUMBER   SAVKD.  133 

ad  sapientiam  pervenissent  nisi  putassent  se  per- 
venisse,  we  may,  with  a  little  alteration,  apply  unto 
this  purpose ;  That  many  might  have  reached  heaven,  if 
they  had  not  been  so  confident  of  it.  The  doors  of  the 
Christian  church  are  now  very  wide,  and  men  have 
access  unto  them  upon  easy  terms:  nay  this  privilege 
descends  unto  men  by  their  birth,  and  they  are  reckon- 
ed among  Christians  before  they  come  well  to  know 
what  it  means.  The  ordinances  and  mysteries  of  our 
religion  are  common  to  ail,  save  those  whom  gross  igno- 
rance or  notorious  crimes  do  exclude.  There  are  no 
marks  on  the  foreheads  of  men  whereby  we  can  judge 
of  their  future  condition :  they  die,  and  are  laid  in  their 
graves,  and  none  cometh  back  to  tell  how  it  fareth  with 
them;  and  we  desire  to  think  the  best  of  every  particu- 
lar person.  But,  whatever  charity  be  in  this,  there  is 
little  prudence  in  the  inference  that  many  draw  from  it, 
who  think  that  they  may  live  as  their  neighbours  do, 
and  die  as  happily  as  they;  and,  since  the  greatest  part 
of  men  are  such  as  themselves,  heaven  must  be  a  very 
empty  place  if  all  of  them  be  debarred.  Thus  perhaps 
you  have  seen  a  flock  of  sheep  on  a  bridge,  and  the 
first  leapeth  over,  and  the  rest,  not  knowing  what  is  be- 
come of  those  that  went  before,  do  each  of  them  follow 
their  companions  into  that  hazard  or  ruin.  Interest  and 
self-love  do  so  strongly  blind  the  minds  of  men,  that 
they  can  hardly  be  put  from  the  belief  of  that  which 
they  would  very  fain  have  trae.  Hence  it  is,  that, 
notwithstanding  of  all  we  are  told  to  the  contrary;  the 
opinion  of  the  broadness  of  the  way  that  leads  to  hea- 
ven, and  the  easy  access  unto  it,  is  still  the  most  epi- 
demic, and  I  think  the  most  dangerous  heresy.  Many 
of  the  commonalty  are  so  ignorant  as  to  avow  it;  and 
the  strange  security  of  more  knowing  persons  doth  as 
loudly  proclaim  it.  I  know  he  undertakes  an  unwel- 
come errand,  who  goes  about  to  dispossess  the  minds 
of  men  of  such  a  pleasant  and  flattcing  error.  But 
what  shall  we  do!  Shall  we  suffer  them  to  sleep  on  and 
take  their  rest,  till  the  everlasting  flames  awake  them? 
Shall  we  draw  their  blood  on  our  heads,  and  involve 
12 


1S4  thJlt  there  are  ettt 

ourselves  in  their  ruin,  by  neglecting  to  advertise  them 
of  their  hazard?  No,  my  friends:  duty  doth  oblige  us, 
and  the  holy  Scriptures  will  warrant  us  to  assure  you, 
that  there  are  very  few  that  shall  be  saved;  that  the 
whole  world  lieth  in  wickedness;  and  that  they  are  a 
Irttle  flock  to  whom  the  Father  will  give  the   kingdom. 

That  this  certain,  though  lamentable  truth  may  take 
the  deeper  impression  On  our  minds,  we  shall  first  pro- 
pose some  considerations  for  the  better  understanding 
what  great  things  are  required  in  those  who  look  for 
everlasting  happiness,  and  then  reflect  on  the  actions 
and  ways  of  men;  that,  comparing  the  one  with  the 
other,  we  may  see  how  little  ground  of  hope  there  is 
for  the  greatest  part  to  build  on. 

First,  then,  consider  the  nature  of  that  divine  Majesty, 
whose  presence  and  enjoyment  it  is  that  makes  heaven 
desirable;  and  think  how  inconsistent  it  is  with  his  infi- 
nite holiness,  to  admit  impure  and  impenitent  sinners 
into  the  habitation  of  his  glory.  Certainly  he  is  of  purer 
eyes  than  to  behold  evil,  and  cannot  look  on  iniquity. 
He  is  not  a  God  that  hath  pleasure  in  wickedness: 
neither  shall  evil  dwell  with  him.  The  foolish  shall  not 
stand  in  his  sight.  It  is  strange  what  conceptions  fool- 
ish men  entertain  of  Almighty  God,  who  imagine,  that 
those  who  have  been  all  their  days  wallowing  in  sin, 
shall  be  admitted  into  an  everlasting  fellowship  with 
him.  Sooner  shall  light  and  darkness  dwell  together^ 
and  heat  and  cold  in  their  greatest  violence  combine, 
and  all  contrarieties  of  nature  be  reconciled.  Can  two 
walk  together  except  they  be  agreed.^  Can  there  be  any 
converse  between  those  whose  natures  suit  so  ill  to- 
gether? Sure  they  who  think  to  come  so  easily  by  happi- 
ness, must  imagine  God  altogether  such  a  one  as  them- 
selves; else  they  could  never  hope  that  he  would  choose 
them,  and  cause  them  approach  unto  him.  But  O  how 
widely  shall  they  find  themselves  mistaken,  when  he 
shall  reprove  them,  and  set  their  sins  in  order  before 
them:  and  they  shall  find  to  their  confusion,  that  he  is 
a  consuming  fire  to  all  the  workers  of  iniquity!  Men 
are  wont   to  frame  a  notion  of  God  according  to  their 


A.  SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.       .  135 

own  wishing,  as  if  he  were  but  an  empty  name:  and 
this  is  the  common  shelter  against  every  convincing  re- 
proof. But  this  temerity  shall  at  length  sufficiently  coiv- 
fute  itself,  and  feel  that  justice  which  it  will  not  believe. 
There  is  not  strife  among  the  attributes  of  God,  that 
one  of  them  shall  swallow  up  another.  Mercy  is  open 
to  all  that  forsake  their  sins,  but  justice  shall  seize  on 
those  who  continue  in  them.  That  compassion  which 
made  God  to  give  his  dearest  Son  for  the  redemption 
of  mankind,  will  never  prevail  for  the  pardon  and  de- 
liverance of  any  impenitent  sinner.  Abused  goodness 
will  certainly  turn  into  fury;  and  infinite  mercy,  being 
despised,  shall  bring  down  upon  sinners  all  the  dreadful 
effects  of  an  omnipotent  vengeance. 

Consider,  secondly,  what  that  happiness  is  which 
every  body  doth  so  confidently  promise  to  themselves; 
and  see  whether  it  be  likely  that  it  should  be  so  easily 
attained.  Glorious  things  are  everywhere  spoken  of 
that  heavenly  Jerusalem;  and  all  that  is  excellent  or  de- 
sirable in  this  world,  is  borrowed  to  shadow  it  forth  in 
the  holy  Scriptures:  we  are  told  of  crowns,  and  king- 
doms, and  treasures,  and  rivers  of  pleasure,  and  foun- 
tains of  living  waters,  and  of  an  exceeding  eternal 
weight  of  glory. 

But  all  these  do  not  suffice  to  convey  into  our  minds 
any  full  apprehension  of  the  happiness  we  expect;  and, 
after  all  that  can  be  said,  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what 
we  shall  be.  These  metaphors  and  allegories  serve  but 
to  assist  our  minds  a  little,  and  give  us  some  confused 
apprehensions  of  the  things  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard;  nor  can  it  enter  into  the  heart  of  men  to  conceive, 
what  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him,  said 
that  beloved  disciple  that  lay  in  the  bosom  of  our  Sa- 
viour. Can  we  then  expect  that  so  glorious  a  prize  shall 
be  gained  without  any  labour?  Shall  such  a  recompense 
be  bestowed  on  those  who  never  were  at  any  pains 
about  it?  What  toil  and  travail  doth  it  cost  a  man  to 
gather  together  that  white  and  yellow  earth  which  they 
call  money?  With  what  care  and  pains  do  others  ascend 
to  &ny  degree  of  preferment?  What  industry  and  study 


196  THAT  THERE  ARE   BUT 

do  men  empley  to  reach  a  little  knowledge,  and  be 
reckoned  amongst  the  learned?  And  shall  heaven  and 
everlasting  happiness  slide  into  our  arms  when  we  are 
asleep?  No,  certainly.  God  will  never  disparage  the 
glories  of  that  place,  to  bestow  them  on  those  who  have 
not  thought  them  worthy  of  their  most  serious  endeav- 
ours. But  as  the  greatness  of  that  happiness  may  justly 
discourage  all  the  lazy  pretenders  to  it,  so  the  nature  of 
it  leaves  small  ground  of  hope  to  the  greatest  part  of 
the  world.  I  wonder  what  most  men  do  expect  to  meet 
with  in  heaven,  who  dream  of  coming  thither.  Think 
they  to  feast  and  revel,  and  luxuriate  there,  and  to 
spend  eternity  in  foolish  mirth,  and  vain  talk;  in  sport 
and  drollery,  and  sensual  pleasure;  which  are  all  the 
exercises  they  are  capable  of,  or  find  relish  or  satisfac- 
tion in?  Away  with  all  those  Turkish  notions,  whereby 
we  disparage  the  happiness  we  pretend  to.  The  joys 
of  that  place  are  pure  and  spiritual,  and  no  unclean 
thing  shall  enter  there.  The  felicity  of  blessed  spirits 
standeth  in  beholding  and  admiring  the  divine  perfec- 
tions, and  finding  the  image  of  them  shining  in  them- 
selves, in  a  perfect  conformity  of  the  will  and  nature 
of  God,  and  an  intimate  and  delightful  society  and 
communion  with  him:  and  shall  such  souls  be  blessed 
in  seeing  and  partaking  of  the  divine  likeness,  who 
never  loved  it,  and  would  choose  any  thing  rather  than 
to  converse  with  him?  A  little  reflection  on  the  com- 
mon temper  of  men's  minds  may  assure  us,  that  they 
are  very  far  from  that  meetness  and  aptitude  for  the 
inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light  which  the  Apostle 
speaks  of.  The  notion  and  nature  of  blessedness  must 
sure  be  changed,  or  else  the  temper  of  their  spirits: 
either  they  must  have  new  hearts,  or  a  new  heaven 
created  for  them,  before  they  can  be  happy.  It  is  a 
strange  infatuation  of  self  love,  that  men  in  the  gall  of 
bitterness  should  think  it  is  well  with  their  souls,  and 
fancy  themselves  in  a  case  good  enough  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  divine  pleasures. 

In  the  fourth  place.  Let  us  reflect  on  the  attempts 
and  endeavours  of  those  who  have  gone  to  heaven  be- 


A  SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  137 

fore  us;  how  they  did  fight  and  strive,  wrestle  and  run, 
for  obtaining  that  glorious  prize;  and  we  shall  see  how 
improbable  it  is,  that  the  greatest  part  of  men  should 
come  by  it  with  so  little  pains.  Noah,  Abraham,  Ja- 
cob, David,  and  all  those  ancient  worthies  recorded  in 
holy  writ,  have  either  done  or  suffered  so  great  things, 
as  gave  ground  to  expect  that  country  they  looked  after, 
accounting  themselves  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the 
earth;  as  you  may  see  in  the  11th  chapter  of  Hebrews: 
where,  after  a  large  catalogue  of  their  performances, 
the  author  tells  us  of  others,  who  were  tortured,  not 
accepting  deliverance,  that  they  might  obtain  a  better 
resurrection.  And  others  had  trial  of  cruel  mockings, 
and  scourgings,  yea  moreover,  of  bonds  and  imprison- 
ment. They  were  stoned,  they  were  sawn  asunder, 
w^ere  tempted,  were  slain  with  the  sword:  they  wander- 
ed about  in  sheep-skins,  and  goat-skins;  being  destitute, 
afflicted,  tormented:  of  whom  the  world  was  not  wor- 
thy. They  wandered  in  deserts,  and  in  mountains,  and 
in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth.  Such  also  was  that 
holy  violence  wherewith  the  Christians  of  the  first  and 
golden  ages  did  force  open  the  gates  of  heaven,  and 
took  possession  of  it.  The  ardent  affection  wherewith 
these  blessed  souls  were  inflamed  towards  their  maker 
and  redeemer,  made  them  willingly  give  up  their  bodies 
to  be  burned  in  the  fire,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
propagation  of  the  Christian  faith.  Their  constancy  in 
their  sufferings  did  amaze  their  bloody  persecutors,  and 
outweary  the  cruelty  of  their  tormentors:  and  they  re- 
joiced in  nothing  more,  than  that  they  were  accounted 
worthy  to  suffer  shame  for  the  name  of  Jesus.  And 
what  shall  we  say  of  their  universal  charity  and  love, 
which  reached  their  very  enemies?  of  their  humility  and 
meekness,  justice  and  temperance,  and  all  those  other 
virtues  which  many  of  the  Heathens  themselves  did 
observe  and  admire?  Behold,  saith  one,  how  the  Chris- 
tians love  one  another!  These  are  the  men,  saith  anoth- 
er, who  speak  as  they  think,  and  do  as  they  speak. 
Pliny,  after  an  exact  inquiry,  writeth  to  Trajan  the  Em- 
peror, That  he  could  never  find  any  other  guilt  in  the 
IS* 


138  THAT  THERE  ARE  BUT 

Christians,  but  that  they  met  together  before  daybreak, 
to  sing  a  hymn  to  Christ,  as  if  he  were  God;  and  then 
to  bind  themselves  with  a  sacrament  or  oath,  not  to  do 
any  mischief;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  they  shall  not 
rob,  steal,  or  commit  adultery,  or  falsify  their  words, 
or  deny  their  trust,  &c.  This  was  the  crime  of  Chris- 
tians in  those  first  ages,  to  engage  themselves  not  to 
commit  any  crime.  And  if  it  fell  out  that  any  of  them 
were  guilty  of  drunkenness,  or  uncleanness,  or  any  oth- 
er of  those  sins,  which,  alas!  are  so  lightly  censured  in 
our  days,  they  were  severely  punished:  nay,  how  bit- 
terly did  themselves  lament  it!  They  needed  not  in 
those  days  to  be  pursued  by  tedious  processes,  or  drag- 
ged against  their  will  to  the  profession  of  their  repen- 
tance. They  would  sue  for  it  with  tears,  and  stand 
many  years  at  the  door  of  the  church,  begging  to  be 
received.  The  censures  of  the  church  were  then  look- 
ed upon  as  very  serious  and  dreadful  things:  and  they 
who  would  encounter  death  in  the  most  terrible  form, 
would  tremble  if  threatened  with  excommunication. 
Now,  tell  me,  I  pray  you,  what  you  think  of  these  men? 
Did  they  supererogate,  and  go  beyond  their  duty?  or 
were  they  fools  in  doing  these  things,  when  half  the 
pains  might  have  served  the  turn?  Did  heaven  and  hap- 
piness cost  them  so  much  labour,  and  tliink  you  to  be 
carried  fast  asleep,  or  rather  while  you  are  bending 
your  forces  quite  another  way!  If  you  cannot  look  so 
far  back,  or  if  you  imagine  these  but  romances,  like  the 
poetic  accounts  of  the  golden  age,  wherein  all  men 
were  happy  and  good,  I  shall  then  desire  you  to  take 
notice  of  a  few  persons,  whom  the  divine  goodness  hath 
rescued  from  that  deluge  of  wickedness  which  over- 
floweth  the  world.  There  are  perhaps  some  two  or 
three  in  a  city,  or  in  a  country,  who  live  very  far  be- 
yond the  common  rate  of  men,  and  may  be  accounted 
angels  upon  earth,  if  compared  with  them.  They  have 
escaped  the  pollution  that  is  in  the  world,  and  have 
learned  to  despise  all  the  vanities  of  it;  their  affections 
are  above,  and  their  greatest  business  is,  to  please  and 
serve  their  maker;  their  thoughts  and  affections  are  in 


A  SMALL   NUMBER  SAVED.  189 

a  great  measure  holy  aud  pure,  their  converse  innocent 
and  useful,  and  in  their  whole  deportment  they  observe 
such  strict  rules  of  holiness  aud  virtue,  as  others  may 
think  needless  or  superstitious:  and  yet  these  persons 
are  deeply  sensible  of  their  own  imperfections,  and 
afraid  enough  to  come  short  of  heaven.  I  speak  not 
now  of  those  scnipulous  persons  whom  melancholy  doth 
expose  unto  perpetual  and  unaccountable  fears;  much 
less  of  others,  who  make  a  trade  of  complaining,  and 
would  be  the  better  thought  of  for  speaking  evil  of 
themselves,  and  would  be  very  ill  pleased  if  you  should 
believe  them.  I  speak  of  rational  and  sober  men,  whose 
fears  arise  from  their  due  consideration  and  measures 
of  things,  from  the  right  apprehensions  they  have  of 
the  holiness  of  God,  and  the  meaning  and  importance 
of  the  gospel-precepts.  And  certainly  such  holy  jeal- 
ousies over  themselves  ought  not  to  be  judged  needless; 
since  St.  Paul  himself,  who  had  been  rapt  up  into  the 
third  heaven,  and  thereby  received  an  earnest  of  eter- 
nal happiness,  found  it  necessary  to  take  care,  lest  that 
by  any  means,  while  he  preached  to  others,  himself 
should  be  a  cast-away.  I  know  it  is  ordinary  for  men 
to  laugh  at  those  who  are  more  serious  and  conscien- 
tious than  themselves,  to  wonder  v.'hat  they  aim  at,  and 
to  hope  to  be  as  sure  of  heaven  as  they.  But  ere  long 
they  shall  discover  their  mistake,  and  shall  say,  with 
those  spoken  of  in  the  book  of  Wisdom,  This  was  he 
whom  we  had  sometimes  in  derision,  and  a  proverb  of 
reproach.  We  fools  accounted  his  life  madness,  and 
his  end  to  be  without  honour.  How  is  he  numbered 
among  the  children  of  God,  and  his  lot  is  among  the 
saints!  Therefore  have  we  erred  from  the  way  of  truth, 
and  the  light  of  righteousness  hath  not  shined  unto  us, 
and  the  sun  of  righteousness  rose  not  upon  us. 

To  come  yet  closer  unto  our  present  purpose,  a  se- 
rious consideration  of  the  laws  and  precepts  of  the  gos- 
pel, will  fully  convince  us  of  the  straightness  of  the 
gate,  and  narrowness  of  the  way  that  leads  unto  eter- 
nal life.  We  cannot  name  them  all,  nor  insist  upon 
aa    at  length.     Look  thiough  that  excellent  sermon  ou 


140  THAT   THERE  ARE   BITT 

the  m®unt,  and  see  what  our  Saviour  doth  require  of 
his  followers.  You  will  find  him  injoining  such  a  pro- 
found humility,  as  shall  make  us  think  nothing  of  our- 
selves, and  be  content  that  others  think  nothing  of  us;  a 
meekness  which  no  injuries  can  overcome,  no  affronts 
nor  indignities  can  exasperate;  a  chastity  which  restrain- 
eth  the  sight  of  the  eyes,  and  the  wandering  of  the  de- 
sires; such  an  universal  charity  as  will  make  us  tender 
other  men's  welfare  as  our  own,  and  never  to  take  any 
revenge  against  our  most  bitter  enemies,  but  to  wish 
them  well,  and  to  do  them  all  the  good  we  can,  wheth- 
er they  will  or  not.  Whatever  corrupt  glosses  men 
are  bold  to  put  on  our  Saviour's  words,  the  offering  the 
other  cheek  to  him  who  smote  the  one,  and  the  giving 
our  coat  to  him  who  hath  taken  our  cloak,  doth  oblige 
lis  to  suffer  injuries,  and  part  with  something  of  our 
right,  for  avoiding  strife  and  contention.  The  pulling 
out  our  right  eye  and  cutting  off  our  right  hand  that 
offends,  doth  import  the  renouncing  of  the  most  gainful 
callings,  or  pleasant  enjoyments,  when  they  become  a 
snare  unto  us,  and  the  use  of  all  those  corporal  austeri- 
ties that  arc  necessary  for  the  restraint  of  our  lust  and 
corrupt  affections.  The  hating  of  father  and  mother  for 
the  sake  of  Christ,  doth  at  least  imply  the  loving  of 
him  infinitely  beyond  our  dearest  relations,  and  the  be- 
ing ready  to  part  with  them  when  either  our  duty  or  his 
will  doth  call  for  it.  And  we  must  not  look  upon  these 
things  as  only  counsels  of  perfection,  commendable  in 
themselves,  but  which  may  yet  be  neglected  without 
any  gi-eat  hazard.  No,  certainly;  they  are  absolutely 
necessary:  and  it  is  folly  to  expect  happiness  without 
the  conscientior.s  and  sincere  performance  of  them  all. 
Whosoever  shall  break  one  of  these  least  coinmand- 
ments,  and  shall  teach  men  so,  he  shall  be  called  the 
least  in  the  kingdem  of  heaven;  that  is,  according  to 
all  interpreters,  he  shall  have  no  interest  in  it.  You 
see  then  by  what  strict  rules  he  must  square  his  actions, 
who  can  with  any  ground  hope  to  be  saved.  But  now 
I  must  tell  you  further;  that  he  must  not  be  put  to  the 
performance  of  his  duty  merely  by  the  force  and  sano- 


A  SMALL  NUMBER    SAVED.  141 

tioi>s  of  these  laws.  True  religion  is  an  inwaro,  free, 
and  self-moving  principle;  and  those  who  have  made  a 
progress  in  it,  are  not  acted  only  by  external  motives, 
are  not  merely  driven  by  threatenings,  nor  bribed  by 
promises,  nor  constrained  by  laws;  but  are  powerfully 
inclined  to  that  which  is  good.  Though  holy  and  re- 
ligious persons  do  much  eye  the  law  of  God ;  yet  it  is 
cot  so  much  tlie  authority  and  sanction  of  it,  as  its  rea- 
sonableness, and  purity,  and  goodness,  that  doth  prevail 
with  them.  They  account  it  excellent  and  desirable  in 
itself,  and  that  in  keeping  of  it  there  is  a  great  reward; 
and  that  divine  love  wherewith  they  are  acted,  makes 
them  become  a  law  unto  themselves:  Quis  legem  det 
amantibus?  Major  est  amor  lex  ipse  sibi.  In  a 
word,  what  our  blessed  Saviour  said  of  himself,  is  in 
some  measure  applicable  to  his  followers,  that  it  is  their 
meat  and  drink  to  do  their  Father's  will.  And  as  the 
natural  appetite  is  carried  out  towards  food,  though  we 
should  not  reflect  on  the  necessity  of  it  for  the  preser- 
vation of  our  lives;  so  are  they  carried  with  a  natural 
and  unforced  propension  towards  that  which  is  good 
and   commendable. 

Hitherto  we  have  been  speaking  of  those  qualifica- 
tions which  are  necessary  for  obtaining  an  entrance 
into  heaven:  It  is  high  time  we  were  casting  our  eyes 
upon  the  world,  to  see  how  the  tempers  and  actions 
of  men  agree  with  them.  And  if  first  we  look  back 
upon  the  old  world,  we  shall  see  how  soon  wickedness 
did  overspread  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  all  flesh  had 
cornipted  their  way;  and  of  all  the  multitudes  that  were 
then  in  the  world,  only  Noah  and  his  family  were  found 
worthy  to  escape  the  general  deluge;  nay  even  in  it 
there  was  a  cursed  Cham,  the  father  of  a  wicked  gene- 
ration. After  that  the  church  of  God  was  confined  to 
a  very  narrow  corner;  and  while  darkness  covered  the 
face  of  the  earth,  only  Palestine  was  enlightened  with 
the  knowledge  of  God:  He  showed  his  word  unto  Jacob, 
his  statutes  and  his  judgments  unto  Israel.  But  he  dealt 
not  so  with  every  nation:  as  for  his  judgments,  they 
have  not  known  them.     They  were  given   up  to    tlie 


143  THAT   THERE   ARE   BUT 

lusts  of  their  own  hearts,  and  worshipped  the  works  of 
their  own  hands.  Their  devotions  were  performed  unto 
devils,  and  their  religious  mysteries  were  full  of  the 
grossest  impurities.  I  shall  not  now  enter  on  the  de- 
bate. Whether  ever  any  Heathen  might  possibly  have 
been  saved?  We  are  more  concerned  to  secure  our  own 
salvation,  than  to  dispute  about  theirs:  and  yet  I  must 
say,  that,  amongst  all  the  lives  of  celebrated  Heathens, 
I  could  never  meet  with  the  character  of  a  truly  good 
man.  And  though  I  love  not  to  decry  morality,  yet 
that  pride  and  self-conceit  which  mingled  itself  with 
their  fairest  actions,  makes  me  look  upon  them  as  in- 
deed splendida  peccata,  a  more  specious  kind  of  sins. 
But  suppose  something  could  be  said  for  Socrates  and 
Plato,  and  two  or  three  others,  what  is  that  to  those 
huge  multitudes,  who  without  all  peradventure,  ran 
headlong  into  everlasting  destruction?  But  let  us  leave 
those  times,  and  look  upon  the  present  condition  of  the 
world.  It  is  a  sad  account  of  it  that  is  given  by  Breer- 
wood  in  his  Enquiries,  that  dividing  the  whole  world 
into  thirty  parts,  nineteen  are  Pagan,  six  are  Mahome- 
tan, and  only  five  remain  for  Christians  of  all  persua^ 
sions.  I  shall  not  warrant  the  exactness  of  his  reckon- 
ing: but  certainly  the  number  of  Christians  carries  but 
a  very  small  proportion  to  the  rest  of  mankind.  And 
of  these  again,  how  few  are  there  orthodox  in  their  re- 
ligion? I  dare  not  condemn  all  those  who  live  in  the 
Komish  communion:  but  sure  they  lie  under  very  great 
disadvantages;  and,  besides  the  common  ditficulties  of 
Christianity,  their  errors  and  superstitions  are  no  small 
hinderances  unto  them. 

But  we  may  perhaps  think  ourselves  little  concerned 
in  them.  Let  us  consider  those  who  live  in  communion 
with  ourselves,  and  see  what  is  to  be  thought  of  the 
generality  of  them.  And,  first,  we  shall  find  a  very 
great  number  of  them  so  grossly  ignorant,  that  they 
know  not  the  way  that  leads  to  life.  And  truly  it  is 
net  so  broad  that  people  should  keep  it  by  guess.  And 
however  they  imagine,  that  their  ignorance  will  not 
enlv  he  excusable  in  itsejf,  but  afford  a  cloak  to  their 


A  SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  14^ 

bther  wickedness ;  yet  dreadful  is  that  threatenizig  of  the 
prophet  Isaiah,  It  is  a  people  of  no  understanding:  there- 
fore he  tTiat  made  them  will  not  have  mercy  upon  themj 
and  he  that  formed  them  will  show  them  no  favour. 
But,  besides  those  many  thousands  that  perish  for  lack 
of  knowledge,  how  great  are  the  number  of  vicious 
and  scandalous  persons?  Remove  but  our  gluttons  and 
drunkards,  our  thieves  and  deceivers,  our  oppressors 
and  extortioners,  our  scolders  and  revilers,  our  fornica- 
tors and  adulterers,  and  all  that  cursed  crevv  that  are 
guilty  of  such  heinous  crimes,  and  how  thin  should  our 
churches  be?  to  what  a  small  number  should  we  quick- 
ly be  reduced?  A  little  corner  would  hold  us  all.  And 
think  you  these  I  have  been  speaking  of,  are  fit  to  en- 
ter into  the  kingdom  of  heaven?  Perhaps  you  may  think 
us  rash  to  condemn  so  many  of  our  neighbours,  but  the 
Apostle  hath  done  it  to  our  hands:  Know  ye  not  that 
the  unrighteous  shall  not  inherit  the  kingdom  of  God? 
Be  not  deceived:  neither  fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor 
adulterers,  nor  effeminate,  nor  abusers  of  themselves 
with  manldnd,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor  drunkards, 
nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners,  shall  inherit  the  kingdom 
of  God.  You  see  what  a  heavy  sentence  is  pronounced: 
and  O  how  many  are  included  under  it!  I  shall  name 
one  other  vice,  which  I  fear  will  drive  in  no  small  num- 
ber of  those  who  are  yet  behind;  and  that  is^  the  hellish 
iand  unaccountable  sin  of  swearing,  whereby  men  do 
commonly  throw  away  their  souls,  without  any  tempta- 
tion, pleasure,  or  advantage.  How  often  do  men  baffle 
the  sacred  name  of  God,  by  calling  him  to  witness  to 
such  trifles  as  they  might  be  ashamed  to  attest  before 
any  grave  or  sober  person?  This  they  account  an  orna- 
ment of  speech,  and  their  words  would  never  sound  big 
enough  without  it.  I  cannot  stand  to  reckon  up  ail  the 
aggravations  of  this  sin.  It  is  certainly  inconsistent 
with  a  religious  temper;  and  this  alone,  if  there  were 
no  more,  would  damn  the  greatest  part  of  the  christian 
world.  And  what  shall  we  say  of  all  those  other  vices, 
which  are  so  frequently  practised,  yea,  and  defended 
too  among  us?  for,  alas!  we  are  arrived  at  that  lieight 


144  THAT  THERE  ARE  BtfiP 

of  impiety,  that  virtue  and  vice  seem  to  have  shifted 
places;  evil  and  good  to  have  changed  their  names.  It 
is  counted  a  gallant  thing  to  despise  all  divine  and  hu- 
man laws;  and  a  childish  scrupulosity,  to  forbear  any 
thing  that  may  gratify  our  lusts.  A  strong  faith  is  ac- 
counted an  argument  of  weak  judgment;  dependence 
upon  providence  is  judged  want  of  foresight;  and  that 
there  is  no  wit  but  in  deceiving  others:  no  man  is  reck- 
oned generous,  unless  he  be  extremely  ambitious;  and  it 
is  want  of  courage  to  forgive  an  injury.  O  Religion, 
whither  art  thou  fied !  In  what  corner  of  the  world  shall 
we  find  thee?  Shall  we  search  thee  in  courts  and  palaces 
of  great  men?  Pride  and  luxury  hath  driven  thee  thence ; 
and  they  are  too  much  concerned  in  the  business  and 
pleasure  of  this  world,  to  mind  those  of  another.  Shall 
we  seek  thee  in  the  cottages  of  the  poor?  Envy  and 
discontent  lodgeth  there;  their  outward  want  takes  up 
all  their  thoughts,  and  they  have  little  regard  for  their 
souls.  Shall  we  go  into  the  city?  Cheating  and  extor- 
tion, and  intemperance,  are  almost  all  we  can  meet 
with  there.  And  if  we  retire  into  the  country,  we  shall 
find  as  little  innocence  in  it.  We  may  look  for  judg- 
ment, but  behold  oppression;  for  righteousness,  but  be- 
hold a  cry. 

After  all  that  we  have  hitherto  said,  some  may  think 
themselves  safe  enough,  being  conscious  of  none  of 
those  vices  which  we  have  named.  But,  alas!  what 
is  all  this?  They  may  still  be  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  Religion  stands  not  in  negatives;  and  the 
being  free  from  gross  and  scandalous  vices,  is  a  poor 
plea  for  heaven.  Look  how  the  soul  is  furnished  with 
those  divine  graces,  w-hich  ought  to  qualify  thee  for  it, 
I  shall  name  but  one;  and  it  is,  the  love  of  God;  and 
every  body  pretendeth  to  if  but  O  how  few  are  there 
in  the  world  that  understand  what  it  means ;  that  feel 
the  power  and  efficacy  of  it  on  their  own  spirits! 
Amor  est  pondus  aiiimi;  Love  is  that  weight  whereby 
a  soul  is  carried  towards  the  object  which  it  loves,  and 
resteth  in  it  as  its  proper  centre.  Those  who  are  ac- 
quaiuted  with  this  noble  passion  even  in  its  wanderings 


A  SMALL  NX7MBER  SAVED.  1-45 

and  deviations  from  its  proper  object,  when  it  is  wholly 
fixed  on  some  silly  creature  like  ourselves:  these,  I  say» 
do  know  what  mighty  effects  it  is  wont  to  produce  on 
the  souls  where  it  prevaileth;how  it  makes  them  almost 
forget  their  own  interest,  and  only  mind  that  of  another; 
how  careful  they  are  of  every  thing  that  may  please  or 
advantage  the  person,  and  afraid  to  offend  them;  what 
delight  they  have  in  their  conversation,  and  how  hardly 
they  endure  to  be  absent  from  them.  See  therefore  if 
thou  findest  any  thing  answerable  to  these  effects  of 
love,  in  the  affection  thou  pretendest  unto  God.  Are 
his  glory  and  honour  the  dearest  of  all  things  unto  thee; 
and  wouldst  thou  rather  hear  thyself  and  all  thy  friends 
reviled,  than  his  holy  name  blasphemed?  Is  it  thy 
greatest  care  and  business  to  please  him,  and  art  thoa 
watchful  against  every  sin?  Is  there  nothing  in  the 
world  so  dear  unto  thee,  but  thou  wouldst  part  with 
for  his  sake;  and  still  desirest  he  should  do  his  own  will 
rather  than  thine?  Is  nothing  so  delightful  as  to  con- 
verse with  him?  And  doth  every  thing  seem  burden- 
some which  detains  thee  long  from  him?  If  we  would 
examine  ourselves  by  these  measures,  I  fear  most  of  as 
would  find  our  confidence  built  on  a  sandy  foundation. 
Perhaps  you  will  tell  me,  that  though  things  be  not  so 
well  at  present;  though  yO'U  have  not  yet  attained  these 
endowments  that  are  necessary  to  fit  you  for  heaven, 
nor  have  indeed  begun  to  endeavour  after  them:  yet 
hereafter  you  hope  all  shall  be  well;  you  will  repent  and 
amend  once  before  you  die.  But  consider,  I  beseech 
you,  my  brethren,  what  it  is  that  you  say.  When 
think  you  that  this  promised  reformation  shall  begin? 
Some  two  or  three  years  after  this,  when  yon  have 
pleased  yourselves,  and  indulged  your  lusts  a  Htfle  more? 
But  what  assurance,  have  you  to  live  so  long?  Are  not 
your  neighbours  droppi-»g  down  every  day  about  you, 
who  expected  death  as  little  as  you?  And  suppose  you 
live,  what  greater  probability  is  there  of  your  reforma- 
tion at  that  time  than  now?  Had  you  not  the  same 
thoughts  and  resolutions  several  years  ago,  which  yet 
have  taken  no  effect  at  all?  Will  you  not  have  the  same 
13 


146  THAT  THERE  ARE   BUT 

temptations  and  snares?  Will  your  lusts  be  more  easily 
overcome,  when  strengthened  by  longer  custom?  Will 
it  be  more  easy  to  return  after  you  have  wandered  fur- 
ther out  of  your  way?  Belike  it  is  on  a  deathbed  repent- 
ance you  have  grounded  your  hopes;  you  resolve  to  part 
with  your  lusts  when  you  can  keep  them  no  longer,  and 
serve  God  Almighty  with  the  dregs  of  your  time.  I 
shall  not  stand  to  tell  you  what  shrewd  objections  are 
proposed  by  some  great  and  learned  men  against  the 
validity  and  acceptableness  of  such  a  repentance:  some 
of  them  perhaps  have  been  too  peremptory  and  severe. 
True  and  unfeigned  repentance,  which  includeth  the 
sincere  love  of  (iod,  and  resignation  to  him,  will  never 
come  too  late:  the  foundation  of  heaven  is  laid  in  the 
souls  of  those  that  have  it.  But  if  we  consider  what  a 
great  matter  true  repentance  is,  the  shortness  of  the 
time,  and  hinderances  of  a  distempered  body,  and  the 
ordinary  relapses  of  men  who  have  promised  fair  on 
such  occasions,  and  have  outlived  that  sickness  they 
thought  had  been  mortal;  we  cannot  but  acknowledge, 
that  a  deathbed  repentance  is  seldom  sincere;  and  that 
it  is  an  unfit  time  to  begin  to  fight  with  principalities 
and  powers,  when  perhaps  we  have  not  strength  to 
turn  ourselves  on  our  beds;  in  a  word,  that  of  those 
who  do  thus  delay  and  put  off  the  business,  very  few 
shall  be   saved. 

When  we  have  said  all  that  we  can  say,  there  are 
many  will  never  be  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  that 
which  we  have  been  proving.  They  cannot  think  it 
consistent  with  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  God,  that 
the  greatest  part  of  mankind  should  be  damned:  they 
cannot  imagine  that  heaven  should  be  such  an  empty 
and  desolate  place,  and  have  so  very  few  to  inhabit  it. 
But  O  what  folly  and  madness  is  this,  for  sinful  men  to 
set  rules  unto  the  divine  goodness,  and  draw  conclu- 
sions from  it  so  expressly  contrary  to  what  himself  hath 
revealed!  Is  it  not  enough  that  he  has  taught  us  the 
way  to  be  happy,  and  given  his  own  Son  to  the  death 
to  make  it  possible;  that  he  hath  waited  so  long,  and 
invited  us  so  earnestly^  and  so  frequently  told  us  our 


A  SMALL  NUMBER  SAVED.  147 

hazard?  If  all  this  cannot  prevail ;  if  we  be  obstinately 
resolved  to  continue  wicked  and  miserable;  if  we 
despise  his  goodness,  and  turn  all  his  grace  unto  wan- 
tonness; if  we  slight  his  threatenings,  and  will  have 
none  of  his  reproof;  if  we  court  damnation,  and  throw 
ourselves  headlong  into  hell:  how  can  we  expect  that 
he  should  interpose  his  omnipotency  to  pull  us  from 
thence,  and  place  us  in  heaven  against  our  will? 
Those  blessed  regions  are  not  like  our  new  plantations, 
which  are  sometimes'  peopled  with  the  worst  sort  of 
persons,  lest  they  should  be  altogether  desolate.  There 
are  thousands  of  angels,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten 
thousand  that  stand  about  the  throne.  We  know  little 
the  extent  of  the  universe,  or  what  proportion  the 
wicked  or  miserable  part  of  rational  bemgs  doth  carry 
to  thx)se  that  are  happy  and  good:  but  this  we  know, 
that  God  was  infinitely  happy  before  he  had  made  any 
creature ;  that  he  needeth  not  the  society  of  the  holy  an- 
gels, and  will  never  admit  that  of  wicked  and  irreligious 
men.     But,  that  I  may  haste  tow  ads  a  close, 

The  doctrine  we  have  been  insisting  on,  is  sad  and 
lamentable;  but  the  consideration  of  it  may  be  very 
useful.  It  must  needs  touch  any  serious  person  with 
a  great  deal  of  grief  and  trouble,  to  behold  a  multitude 
of  people  convened  together,  and  to  think,  that,  before 
thirty  or  forty  years,  a  little  more,  or  great  deal  less, 
they  shall  all  go  down  unto  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 
and  the  greater,  the  far  greater  part  of  their  souls  shall 
be  damned  unto  endless  and  unspeakable  torments.  But 
this  may  stir  us  up  unto  the  greatest  diligence  and  care, 
that  we  may  do  what  we  can  towards  the  prevention 
of  it.  Were  the  sense  of  this  deeply  engraven  on  all 
our  minds,  with  what  care  and  diligence,  with  what 
seriousness  and  zeal  would  ministers  deal  with  the  peo- 
ple committed  to  their  charge,  that  by  any  means  they 
might  save  some?  How  would  parents,  and  husbands, 
and  wives,  employ  all  their  diligence  and  industry,  and 
make  use  of  the  most  useful  methods,  for  reclaiming 
their  near  relations,  and  pulling  them  from  the  brink 
of  hell?     Lastly,  what  holy  violence  would  each  of  us 


148  THE    DUTY    AND    PLEASURE 

rise  for  saving  ourselves  from  this  common  rum,  and 
n)aking  our  calling  and  election  sure?  This,  1  say,  is 
the  use  of  what  we  have  been  speaking:  and  may  Al- 
mighty God  so  accompany  it  with  his  blessing  and 
power,  that  it  may  be  so  happily  effectual  to  so  excel- 
lent a  purpose.     And  unto  this  God,  &c. 


THE    DUTY    AND    PLEASURE    OF    PRAISE    AND 
THANKSGIVING. 


FSALM  CVII.  15. 

Oh  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness and  for  his  wonderful  ivorks  to  the  children 
of  men! 

There  is  scarce  any  duty  of  religion  more  commonly 
neglected,  or  more  slightly  performed,  than  that  of  praise 
and  thanksgiving.  The  sense  of  onr  wants  puts  us  upon 
begging  favours  from  God;  and  the  consciousness  of  our 
sins  constrains  us  to  deprecate  his  wrath.  Thus  interest 
and  self-love  send  us  to  our  prayers.  But,  alas!  how 
small  a  part  hath  an  ingenuous  gratitude  in  our  devotion? 
How  seldom  are  we  serious  and  hearty  in  our  acknowl- 
edgement of  the  divine  bounty?  The  slender  returns  of 
this  nature  which  we  make,  are  mony  times  a  formal 
ceremony,  a  preface  to  usher  in  our  petitions  for  what 
we  want,  rather  than  any  sincere  expression  of  our 
thankful  resentment  for  what  we  have  received.  Far 
different  was  the  temper  of  the  holy  Psalmist,  whose 
affectionate  acknowledgements  of  the  goodness  and 
bounty  of  God,  in  the  cheerful  celebration  of  his  praise, 
make  up  a  considerable  part  of  his  divine  and  ravishing 
songs.  How  often  do  we  find  him  exciting  and  dispos- 
ing himself  to  join  voice,  hand  and  heart  together  in 
this  holy  and  delightful  employment?  Bless  the  Lord,  O 
xaj  soul:  and  all  that  is  within  me,  bless  bis  holy  name^ 


OF  PRAISE   AND   THANKSGIVING.  149 

My  heart  is  fixed,  O  God,  my  heart  is  fixed.  I  will  sing 
and  give  praise.  Awake  up,  my  glory,  awake,  psaltery 
and  harp:  I  myself  will  awake  right  early.  And  being 
conscious  of  his  own  insufficiency  for  the  work,  he  invit- 
eth  others  unto  it;  calling  in  the  whole  creation  to  assist 
him:  O  sing  unto  the  Lord  a  new  song;  sing  unto  the 
Lord  all  the  earth.  Give  unto  the  Lord,  O  ye  kindreds 
of  the  people,  give  unto  the  Lord  glory  and  strength. 
Praise  ye  the  Lord.  Praise  ye  the  Lord  from  the  hea- 
vens: praise  him  in  the  heights.  Praise  him,  ye  sun  and 
moon:  praise  him,  all  ye  stars  of  light;  mountains  and 
all  hills,  fruitful  trees  and  all  cedars;  beasts  and  all  cat- 
tle, creeping  things,  and  flying  fowl.  Bless  the  Lord,  all 
his  works  in  all  places  of  his  dominion.  Many  such 
figurative  expressions  occur,  and  allowance  must  be 
made  for  the  poetical  strain;  but  in  the  text  we  have  a 
proper  and  passionate  wish.  Oh  that  men  would  praise 
the  Lord,  &c. 

O  that  men,  8fc.  Man  is  the  great  priest  of  this  low- 
er world,  by  whom  all  the  homage  and  service  of  the 
other  creatures  is  to  be  paid  to  their  common  lord  and 
maker.  God  hath  made  him  to  have  dominion  over  the 
works  of  his  hand,  he  hath  put  all  things  under  his  feet; 
all  sheep  and  oxen,  yea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field:  the 
fowl  of  the  air,  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  whatsoever  pass- 
eth  through  the  paths  of  the  seas.  And  the  divine  boun- 
ty, in  maintaining  of  these  poor  creatures,  redoundeth 
unto  him;  and  therefore  it  is  highly  reasonable  that  he 
should  pay  the  tribute  of  praise  for  them,  who  are  not 
capable  to  know  their  dependence  on  God,  or  their  ob- 
ligations unto  him.  The  young  lions  are  said  to  roar 
and  seek  their  meat  from  God.  The  young  ravens  do  cry 
unto  him.  But  these  are  only  the  complaints  of  languish- 
ing nature  heard  and  relieved  by  the  God  of  nature;  but 
not  directly  and  particularly  addressed  to  him.  Man 
alone  is  capable  to  entertain  communion  with  God,  to 
know  his  goodness,  and  to  celebrate  his  praise. 

O  that  ?7ien  tvould  praise  the  Lord.  Praise  is  the 
acknowledgement  of  the  goodness  and  excellency  of  a 
person:  and  though  tlie  desire  of  it,  in  us  who  have  no- 
13* 


150  THE    DUTY    AST)    PLEASURE 

thing  of  our  own  but  folly  and  siu,  and  whose  best  per- 
formances have  a  miserable  alloy  of  adherent  corruption, 
be  a  blamable  vanity  and  presumption:  yet  certainly  it  is 
highly  reasonable  for  (iod,  who  ^s  the  author  and  foun- 
tain of  all  good,  to  require  and  expect  it  from  his  crea- 
tures. He  hath  made  this  great  world  as  a  temple  for  his 
honour,  and  it  should  continually  resound  with  his  praise. 
It  is  true,  all  the  praises  of  men  and  angels  can  add  no- 
thing to  his  happiness  and  glory;  yet  there  is  a  fitness  and 
congruity  in  the  thing;  and  it  is  our  happiness  as  well  as 
our  duty  to  perform  it:  for  it  is  good  to  sing  praises  to 
our  God;  for  it  is  pleasant,  and  praise  is  comely.  This 
is  the  blessed  employment  of  the  holy  ones  above:  and 
if  ever  we  taste  the  pleasures  of  heaven  upon  earth,  it  is 
then  when  our  souls  are  ravished  with  an  overflowing 
sense  of  the  divine  goodness,  and  our  mouths  are  filled 
with  his  praise. 

Oh  that  men  icould praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness. All  the  attributes  of  God  deserve  our  highest 
praise.  Power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  are  all  one  in 
him;  but,  as  we  have  different  conceptions  of  these, 
good:iess  is  that  lovely  attribute  which  doth  peculiarly  at- 
tract our  affection,  and  excite  our  praise.  Our  love  to 
God  doth  not  so  much  flow  from  the  consideration  of  his 
greatness,  whereby  he  can  do  whatever  he  will,  as  from 
the  consideration  of  his  goodness,  that  he  always  willeth 
what  is  best,  that  his  almighty  power  hath  infinite  wis- 
dom to  regulate  it  and  unspeakable  bounty  to  actuate 
and  exert  it. 

Oh  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his  good- 
ness, and  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children 
of  men!  The  divine  goodness  doth  spread  and  extend 
itself  over  all  the  parts  of  the  uni\  erse,  and  embraceth 
the  whole  creation  in  its  arms:  it  not  only  displayeth  it- 
self most  illustriously  to  the  blessed  inhabitants  above, 
but  also  reachelh  to  the  meanest  worm  that  crawleth  on 
the  ground.  The  beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  fowls  of  the 
air,  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea,  and  the  innumerable 
swarms  of  Ihtle  insects  which  we  can  hardly  discern 
with  our  eyes,  are  all  subjects  of  that  almighty  care:  by 


OF   PRAISE  AND   THANKSGIVING.  151 

him  they  are  brought  forth  into  tlie  world ;  by  him  they 
are  furnished  with  provision  suitable  for  them:  These 
all  wait  upon  thee  (saith  the  Psalmist):  that  thou  nmyst 
give  them  their  meat  in  due  season.  That  thou  givest 
them,  they  gather:  thou  openest  thine  hand,  they  are 
filled  with  good.  But  here,  to  excite  us  to  ihankfol- 
ness,  he  makes  choice  of  an  instance  wherein  we  our- 
selves are  more  nearly  concerned;  and  exhorteth  to 
praise  the  Lord  for  his  wonderful  works  to  the  children 
of  men.  If  the  goodness  of  God  to  the  holy  angels  be 
above  our  reach,  and  his  bounty  to  the  inferior  creatures 
be  below  our  notice;  yet  sure  we  must  be  infinitely  dull 
if  w^e  do  not  observe  his  dealings  with  ourselves  and 
those  of  our  kind.  As  our  interest  maketh  us  more 
sensible  of  this,  so  gratitude  doth  oblige  us  to  a  more 
particular  acknowledgement  of  it. 

Thus  you  have  the  meaning  and  importance  of  the 
text.  I  know  not  how  we  can  better  employ  the  rest  of 
the  time,  than  by  suggesting  to  your  meditations  particu- 
lar instances  of  this  goodness,  and  of  his  wonderful  works 
to  the  children  of  men. 

Let  us  then  reflect  on  the  works  both  of  creation  and 
providence.  Let  us  consider  in  what  a  goodly  and  well- 
furnished  world  he  hath  placed  us,  how  he  hath  stretch- 
ed out  the  heavens  as  a  curtain  over  our  heads,  and 
therein  hath  set  a  tabernacle  for  the  sun;  which,  as  an 
imiversal  lamp,  enlighteneth  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
earth.  His  going  forth  is  from  the  end  of  the  heaven,  his 
circuit  to  the  ends  thereof;  and  there  is  nothing  hid  from 
his  heat.  In  the  morning  he  ariseth  and  maketh  the 
darkness  flee  before  him,  and  disco vereth  all  the  beauty 
and  lustre  of  things.  And  truly  the  light  is  sweet,  and  a 
pleasant  thing  it  is  for  the  eyes  to  behold  the  sun.  Nor 
is  it  less  useful  and  advantageous  for  directing  our  ways, 
and  ordering  our  several  employments:  Man  goeth  forth 
to  his  work,  and  to  his  labour  until  the  evening.  He 
maketh  darkness,  and  it  is  night.  The  curtains  are 
drawn  and  all  things  hushed  into  silence,  that  man  may 
enjoy  the  more  quiet  repose:  and  yet,  to  lessen  the  hor- 
ror of  darlmess,  and  iishten  such  as  are  obliged  to  travel 


162  THE   Dt7TY  AND  PLEASURE 

in  the  night,  while  the  sun  is  enlightening  another  part 
of  the  world,  we  have  the  moon  and  stars  to  supply  his 
room.  O  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  is  good: 
for  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever.  To  him  that  by  wis- 
dom made  the  heavens;  for  his,  &c.  The  moon  and 
stars  to  rule  by  night;  for  his,  &c. 

Again,  how  wonderfully  hath  he  furnished  this  lower 
world  for  our  maintenance  and  accommodation!  The 
heaven,  even  the  heaven  of  heavens  are  the  Lord's:  but 
the  earth  hath  he  given  to  the  children  of  men.  He 
hath  made  us  to  have  dominion  over  all  the  works  of  his 
hands;  he  hath  put  all  things  under  our  feet:  all  sheep 
and  oxen,  yea,  and  the  beasts  of  the  field:  the  fowl  of 
the  air,  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  whatsoever  passeth 
tlirough  the  paths  of  the  seas.  By  the  art  and  industry 
of  man  the  swiftest  fowls  are  caught;  the  fiercest  crea- 
tures are  tamed;  the  strongest  beasts  are  overcome,  and 
all  made  serviceable  unto  him.  The  horse  helpeth  our 
journey  both  with  speed  and  ease,  the  oxen  labour  the 
ground  for  us;  sheep  afford  us  meat  and  clothes:  from  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  we  dig  fuels,  metals,  and  stones; 
which  are  still  the  more  plentiful,  as  they  are  useful  and 
advantageous  to  us.  Those  stones  which  serve  for  build- 
ing, are  abnost  everywhere  ready  at  hand;  whereas 
rubies  and  diamonds,  and  other  such  glistering  trifles,  are 
found  but  in  a  few  places  of  the  world,  and  gotten  with  a 
great  deal  of  toil.  And  to  what  hardship  should  all  sort 
of  artificers  be  put,  if  iron  were  as  scanty  as  gold?  The 
surface  of  the  earth  yieldeth  grass  for  the  cattle,  and  herb 
for  the  service  of  man;  and  wine  that  maketh  glad  the 
heart  of  man,  and  bread  which  strengtheneth  his  heart. 
These  it  aftbrdeth  unto  us  from  time  to  time;  and,  while 
we  are  spending  the  productions  of  one  year,  God  is  pro- 
viding for  us  against  another.  There  is  no  sznall  variety 
of  seasons  and  influences,  which  concur  for  the  produc- 
tion of  that  corn,  which  we  murmur  so  much  for  when 
we  want,  and  value  so  little  when  it  doth  abound.  The 
winter-cold  must  temper  and  prepare  the  earth:  the  gen- 
tle spring  must  cherish  and  foment  the  seed;  vapours 
mask  be  raised,  end  condensed  into  clouds,  aod  than 


OF  PRAISE  AND  l-wA  NKSGIVING.  153 

squeezed  out  and  sifted  into  little  drops,  to  water  and  re- 
fresh the  ground;  and  then  the  summer  heat  must  ripen 
and  digest  the  corn  before  it  be  fit  to  be  cut  down.  Thou 
visitest  the  earth  (saith  the  Psalmist,) and  waterest  it:  thou 
greatly  enrichest  it  with  the  river  of  God  which  is  full  of 
water:  thou  preparest  them  corn,  when  thou  hast  so  pro- 
vided for  it.  Thou  waterest  the  ridges  thereof  abund- 
antly: thou  settlest  the  furrows  thereof:  thou  makest  it 
soft  with  showers;  thou  blesseth  the  springing  thereof. 
Thou  crownest  the  year  with  thy  goodness,  and  all  thy 
paths  drop  fatness.  They  drop  upon  the  pastures  of  the 
wilderness:  and  the  little  hills  rejoice  on  every  side.  The 
pastures  are  clothed  with  flocks;  the  valleys  also  are  cov- 
ered over  with  corn;  they  shout  for  joy,  they  also  sing. 
O  Lord  how  wonderful  are  thy  works!  in  wisdom  hast 
thou  made  them  all:  the  earth  is  full  of  thy  riches.  So 
is  the  great  and  wide  sea,  wherein  are  things  creeping 
innumerable,  both  small  and  great  fishes.  There  go  the 
ships,  those  great  engines  of  traffic  and  commerce, 
whereby  every  country  is  easily  furnished  with  the 
productions  of  another.  And  indeed  it  is  a  wonderful 
and  astonishing  contrivance  of  nature,  that  men  should 
be  easily  transported  to  the  remotest  places  in  such 
floating  houses,  and  carried  (so  to  speak)  upon  the 
wings  of  the  wind;  that  they  should  be  able  to  find  out 
their  way  in  the  widest  ocean  and  darkest  night,  by  the 
direction  of  a  trembling  needle,  and  the  unaccountable 
influence  of  a  sorry  stone.  They  that  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships,  that  do  business  in  great  waters:  these  see 
the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  his  wonders  in  the  deep. 
For  he  commandeth,  and  raiseth  the  stormy  wind, 
which  lifteth  up  the  waves  thereof.  They  mount  up  to 
the  heaven,  they  go  down  again  to  the  depths,  their 
soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble.  They  reel  to  and  fro, 
and  stagger  like  a  drunken  man,  and  are  at  their  wits 
end.  Then  they  cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  and 
he  bringeth  them  out  of  their  distresses.  He  maketh 
the  storm  a  calm,  so  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still. 
Then  are  they  glad,  because  they  are  quiet;  so  he  bring- 
eth them  unto  their  desired  haven.     Oh  that  men,  &q. 


154  THE  DVTY  AND  PLEASURE 

But  now  we  are  fallen  unawares  from  the  works  of 
creation  to  those  of  providence.  Indeed  it  is  hard  to 
keep  to  any  exact  method  in  a  subject  so  copious, 
where  one  thing  doth  obtrude  itself  upon  us  before  we 
have  done  with  another.  Let  us  call  back  our  thoughts 
to  a  more  orderly  consideration  of  that  bountiful  provi- 
dence which  followeth  us  from  time  to  time.  We  are 
infinitely  indebted  to  the  divine  goodness  before  we  see 
the  light  of  the  world.  He  poureth  us  out  as  milk,  and 
cnidleth  us  like  cheese.  He  clothes  us  with  skin  and 
flesh,  and  fenceth  us  with  bones  and  sinews.  He  grant- 
eth  us  life  and  favour,  and  his  visitation  preserveth  our 
spirit.  This  is  so  entirely  the  work  of  God,  that  the  pa- 
rents do  not  so  much  as  understand  how  it  is  performed ; 
for  who  knoweth  the  way  of  the  spirit,  (how  it  cometh 
to  enlighten  a  piece  of  matter,)  or  how  the  bones  do 
grow  in  the  womb  of  her  that  is  with  child?  I  will  praise 
thee,  (saith  the  Psalmist,)  for  I  am  fearfully  and  won- 
derfully made:  marvellous  are  thy  works,  and  that  my 
soul  knoweth  right  well.  My  substance  was  not  hid 
from  thee,  when  I  was  made  in  secret,  and  curiously 
wrought  in  the  lowest  parts  of  the  earth.  Thine  eyes  did 
see  my  substance  yet  being  unperfect,  and  in  thy  book 
all  my  members  were  written,  which  in  continuance 
were  fashioned,  when  as  yet  there  were  none  of  them. 
How  precious  also  are  thy  thoughts  unto  me,  O  God! 
how  great  is  the  sum  of  them!  &c.  Nine  months  ordina- 
rily pass  in  the  forming  of  this  curious  and  wonderful 
piece,  before  it  be  exposed  to  the  view  of  the  world: 
and  then  the  prisoner  is  released  from  that  narrow  con- 
finement, and  the  mother  and  the  child  are  delivered 
together.  The  mother  fargetteth  her  anguish  and  pangs, 
for  joy  that  a  man  child  is  born  into  the  world.  The 
poor  infant  is  naked  and  weak,  ready  to  expire  for  hun- 
ger and  cold,  unable  to  do  any  thing  for  hself  but  weep 
and  cry:  but  he  that  brought  it  into  the  world,  hath  al- 
ready provided  for  its  sustentation  in  it.  The  mother's 
breasts  are  filled  with  a  wholesome  and  delicious  liquor, 
vvhjch  faileth  not  from  time  to  time,  but  is  invisibly 


OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  155 

supplied,  like  the  widow  of  Sarepla's  oil,  till  the  child 
become  capable  of  stronger  food. 

But  it  was  not  enough  that  mothers  should  be  ena- 
bled to  sustain  their  infants,  unless  they  had  been  also 
powerfully  inclined  unto  it;  and,  therefore,  God  hath 
implanted  those  bowels  of  kindness  and  compassion, 
which  prompts  them  to  the  most  tender  and  affectionate 
care,  and  makes  them  as  ready  to  help  their  children's 
necessities  as  their  own:  which,  though  it  do  hardly  de- 
serse  the  name  of  a  virtue,  being  common  to  them  with 
the  brutes,  for  even  the  seamonsters  draw  out  the 
breasts,  and  give  suck  to  their  young;  yet  certainly  it  is 
an  effect  of  the  divine  wisdom,  that  infants  may  not  want 
those  succours  which  would  never  have  been  so  effectu- 
ally secured  to  them  by  a  law.  Meanwhile,  the  poor 
infant  is  so  weak,  and  so  unable  to  endure  the  least 
violence,  and  withal  exposed  to  so  innumerable  dangers, 
that  the  mother's  solicitude  and  care  would  be  to  little 
purpose,  if  it  were  not  presers'ed  by  a  higher  and  invis- 
ible power,  which  watcheth  for  its  safety  when  the 
mother  and  nurse  are  fast  asleep,  and  keeps  it  from  be- 
ing overlaid. 

As  we  grow  in  years,  our  necessities  multiply,  and 
dangers  increase  rather  than  diminish;  and  we  are  still 
more  and  more  obliged  to  God  for  the  supply  of  the 
one,  and  our  preservation  from  the  other.  We  think 
perhaps  we  have  now  set  up  for  ourselves,  and  can  pro- 
vide what  is  necessary  by  our  own  industry,  and  keep 
ourselves  out  of  harm's  way.  But  there  cannot  be  a 
more  foolish  and  unreasonable  thought.  There  needeth 
but  a  little  consideration  to  undeceive  us.  All  that  we 
project  and  do  for  ourselves,  dependeth  on  the  integrity 
of  our  faculties,  and  the  soundness  of  our  reason ;  which 
is  a  happiness  we  can  never  secure  unto  ourselves.  I 
choose  this  instance  the  rather,  because  it  is  a  mercy 
invaluable  in  itself,  and  I  fear  very  seldom  considered 
by  us.  O  what  an  unspeakable  blessing  it  is,  that  we 
are  preserved  in  our  right  wits;  that  we  are  not  roaring 
in  8011)6  be<ilajii,  or  running  furiously  up  and  down  the 


156  THE  DUTY   AND  PLEASURE 

Streets;  nor  have  our  spirits  sank  into  silliness  or  stupid- 
ity, which  would  make  every  little  child  to  mock  and 
deride  us!  It  is  possible  enough  that  this  should  befall 
the  wisest  and  most  steadfast  of  us  all.  A  stroke  on  the 
head,  a  few  more  degrees  of  heat  in  the  blood,  or  agi- 
tation of  the  vital  spirits,  were  enough  to  do  the  busi- 
ness. So  weak  and  mutable  creatures  are  we;  so  small 
is  the  distance  between  a  wise  man  and  a  fool.  Next  to 
the  use  of  our  reason,  how  much  are  we  indebted  to  the 
divine  goodness  for  our  health  and  welfare!  These  bod- 
ies of  ours  are  made  up  of  so  various  parts,  and  withal 
so  nice  and  delicate,  that  the  least  thing  in  the  world  is 
enough  to  entangle  and  disorder  them.  A  drop  of  hu- 
mour, or  a  grain  of  sand,  will  sometimes  occasion  such 
anguish  and  pain,  as  render  a  man  insensible  of  all  the 
comforts  he  enjoy eth  in  the  world:  and  they  who  under- 
stand any  thing  of  the  human  body,  will  justly  wonder 
that  all  the  parts  are  kept  in  order  for  an  hour.  What 
a  mercy  ought  we  therefore  to  account  it,  to  find  our- 
selves in  health  and  vigour;  no  aching  in  our  head,  no 
noisomeness  in  our  stomach,  no  fever  in  the  blood,  none 
of  the  humours  vitiated,  none  of  those  innumerable  con- 
duits broken  which  convey  them,  but  all  the  organs 
performing  their  proper  functions,  and  a  sprightly  vigour 
possessing  every  part!  How  much  are  we  indebted  to 
that  providence  which  preserveth  us  from  falls  and 
bruises,  and  keepeth  all  our  bones,  so  that  none  of  them 
is  broken;  which  watcheth  over  us  when  w^e  are  not 
able  to  care  for  ourselves!  What  a  blessing  is  it  to  en- 
joy the  repose  of  the  night;  that  we  are  not  wearied  with 
endless  tossings  and  rollings,  nor  scared  with  dreams, 
and  terrified  with  visions,  whereof  holy  Job  complains; 
that  we  are  protected  from  fire  and  violence,  from  evil 
spirits,  and  from  evil  men!  I  will  both  lay  me  down  in 
peace,  and  sleep;  for  thou,  Lord,  only  makest  me  to 
dwell  in  safety.  And  what  shall  we  say  of  our  food 
and  raiment,  of  our  houses  and  manifold  accommoda- 
tions, of  the  kindness  of  our  neighbours,  and  the  love  of 
our  friends,  of  all  the  means  of  our  subsistence,  and  all  the 
comforts  of  our  lives.'  We  are  made  up,  as  it  were,  of 


OF  PRAISE  AND  THANKSGIVING.  157 

a  great  many  several  pieces,  have  such  a  variety  of  in- 
terests and  enjoyments  concurring  to  our  present  happi- 
ness, that  it  is  an  unspeakable  goodness  which  continu- 
eth  them  all  with  us  from  time  to  time:  that  when  we 
awake  in  the  morning  we  should  find  our  minds  clear, 
our  bodies  well,  our  house  safe,  all  our  friends  in  health, 
and  all  our  interests  secure.  He  is  a  wall  of  fire  about 
us,  and  about  all  that  we  have,  by  night  and  by  day; 
and  his  mercies  are  new  every  morning.  I  cannot  stand 
to  speak  of  all  those  more  public  mercies,  the  peace  and 
tranquillity  of  kingdoms,  and  all  the  happy  effects  "of 
society  and  government.  I  shall  only  say,  that  it  is  a 
signal  instance  of  the  divine  wisdom  and  goodness  in 
the  government  of  the  world,  that  such  a  vast  number 
of  persons  only  actuated  by  self-love,  should  all  conspire 
for  the  public  interest,  and  so  eminently  advance  one 
another's  welfare;  that  magistrates  should  so  willingly 
undergo  the  trouble  of  government,  and  a  heady  and 
inconsiderate  multitude  should  be  commanded  and  over- 
awed by  a  single  man.  Certainly  it  can  be  no  other  but 
that  same  God  who  stilleth  the  noise  of  the  waves,  that 
can  prevent  or  compose  the  tumults  of  the  people. 

Hitherto  we  have  considered  those  instances  of  the 
divine  bounty  which  relate  to  our  temporal  concerns. 
But  sure  we  were  made  for  some  higher  and  more  ex- 
cellent enUi,  than  to  pass  a  few  months  or  years  in  this 
world,  to  eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  die.  God  hath  designed 
US  for  a  more  lasting  and  durable  life,  and  hath  accor- 
dingly made  greater  provisions  for  it.  He  taketh  care 
of  our  very  bodies;  but  hath  an  infinitely-  greater  regard 
to  those  spiritual  and  immortal  substances  which  he  hath 
^  breathed  into  us.  And  here  in  all  reason  we  ought  to 
begin  with  that  great  and  fundamental  mercy,  which  ig 
the  root  and  spring  of  all  his  other  mercies  towards  the 
souls  of  men;  I  mean  the  incarnation  and  the  death  of 
his  only  begotten  Son.  Bxit,  alas!  where  are  those 
affections  wherewith  that  should  be  spoken  and  heard? 
Our  dulness  makes  me  almost  afraid  to  meddle  with  so 
high  a  theme.  That  the  eternal  Son  of  God,  the  Wis- 
dom of  the  Father,  the  maker  and  lord  of  all  things, 
14 


158  THE  DUTY  AND  PLEASURE 

should  clothe  himself  with  the  infirmities  of  the  human 
nature,  and  come  down  from  the  habitation  of  his  glory, 
and  take  up  his  abode  among  the  wretched  and  rebel- 
lious children  of  men,  to  reclaim  them  from  their  wick- 
edness and  folly,  and  reduce  them  to  their  duty  and  their 
happiness;  that  he  should  have  gone  up  and  down  in  the 
world  upwards  of  thirty  years  in  poverty,  affliction,  and 
contempt,  doing  good  and  suffering  evil,  scattering  bles- 
sings and  enduring  injuries  wherever  he -came;  and  at 
last  should  have  yielded  up  his  life  in  unspeakable  an- 
guish and  torment,  to  be  a  propitiation  for  our  sins; 
these  are  matters  which  ought  never  to  be  spoken  or 
heard,  without  losing  ourselves  (as  it  were)  in  a  rapture 
of  admiration,  gratitude,  and  love.  O  the  breadth, 
length,  depth,  and  height  of  that  love  which  passeth  all 
knowledge;  which  made  God  assume  our  nature,  that 
we  might  become  partakers  of  his!  It  is  true,  all  that 
our  Saviour  hath  done  and  suffered,  proveth  ineffectual 
to  the  greatest  part  of  mankind.  But  sure  they  have 
themselves  to  blame.  God  hath  both  said  and  sworn, 
that  he  hath  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  sinners,  but 
would  have  them  rather  repent  and  live.  And  indeed 
this  way  of  dealing  with  them,  doth  sufficiently  declare 
the  same.  With  what  long-suffering  patience  doth  he 
wait  for  their  repentance!  what  pains  doth  he  take  Ic 
reclaim  them!  ^ 

It  is  an  astonishing  thing  to  consider  what  indign-ities 
and  affronts  are  every  day  done  unto  that  infinite  IVIaj- 
esty  by  sinful  dust  and  ashes,  and  that  he  doth  not 
avenge  himself  by  their  total  overthrow;  that  they 
should  violate  his  law,  and  despise  his  threatenings,  and 
defy  him,  as  it  were,  unto  his  very  face,  and  yet  he 
should  pity  and  spare  them,  and  wait  to  be  gracious 
unto  them.  Were  the  governn)ent  of  the  world  com- 
mitted to  the  meekest  person  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 
he  would  never  endure  the  outrages  which  are  commit- 
ted against  heaven,  but  would  presently  lose  all  his 
patience,  and  turn  the  whole  frame  into  ruin.  But  God 
is  love.  His  thoughts  and  ways  are  not  like  those  of 
men;  but  as  tlie  heavens  are  higher  thau  the  earth,  so 


or  PRAISE  AND   THANKSGIVING.  16d 

are  his  thoughts  and  ways  higher  than  ours.  And  when 
the  obstinate  wickedness  of  sinful  creatures  doth,  as  it 
were,  force  and  extort  punishment  from  his  hands, 
what  reluctancy,  what  unwillingness  doth  he  express  to 
this  work;  this  strange  and  unnatural  work,  as  himself 
seems  to  term  it?  How  shall  I  give  thee  up,  O  Ephraim? 
How  shall  I  give  thee  up?  O  that  my  people  had  heark- 
ened unto  me,  that  Israel  had  known  my  w^ays!  O  Jeru- 
salem! O  Jerusalem!  &c. 

Again,  as  God  waiteth  patiently  for  our  reformation, 
so  he  doth  make  use  of  many  methods  and  means  to 
brnig  us  unto  it.  He  hath  published  the  gospel  through 
the  world,  and  brought  down  the  knowledge  of  it  to  our 
days,  in  spite  of  all  the  opposition  of  devils  and  men. 
He  hath  established  a  church,  and  appointed  a  whole  or- 
der of  men,  whose  peculiar  calling  and  business  in  the 
world  is,  to  take  care  of  peoples'  souls,  to  instruct  them 
m  the  way  to  heaven,  and  as  ambassadors  in  Christ's 
stead,  to  beseech  them  to  be  reconciled  unto  God. 
These  are  some  of  his  common  mercies:  but  who  can  ex- 
press that  favour  and  love  which  he  showeth  to  his  own, 
to  those  blessed  persons  whom  he  chooseth,  and  causeth 
to  approach  unto  himself,  when  he  rescueth  them  from 
the  vanity  of  their  conversation,  and  that  pollution  which 
is  in  the  world  through  lust;  when  he  mouldeth  their 
souls  unto  a  conformity  with  himself,  and  stampeth  his 
blessed  image  upon  them;  when  he  visiteth  them  with 
his  Holy  Spirit,  and  filleth  their  heart  with  those  hidden 
pleasures  which  none  can  understand  but  those  that  feel 
them !  A  stranger  intermeddleth  not  with  their  joy.  And 
yet  even  these  are  but  the  earnest  of  that  great  felicity 
for  which  he  hath  designed  us;  those  joys  that  are  at  his 
right  hand,  those  pleasures  that  endure  for  evermore. 
Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  can  it  enter  into 
the  heart  of  man  to  conceive  what  God  hath  prepared 
for  those  that  love  him.  And  it  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be.  Meanwhile,  those  small  and  imper- 
fect discoveries  which  are  made  to  us  in  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures of  that  inconceivable  happiness,  are  enough  to 
overwhelm  us  with  admiration  and  wonder.     To  think 


160  THE  DUTY  A]S"D   PLEASURE,  &C. 

that  the  blessed  day  is  coming,  when  we  shall  be  loos- 
ed from  these  dull  and  lumpish  bodies;  those  sinks  of 
corruption,  diseases,  and  pains;  those  prisons  and  dun- 
geons of  our  heaven-born  souls;  and,  being  clothed 
with  robes  of  light  and  glory,  shall  get  above  the  clouds, 
and  all  those  storms  and  tempests  which  are  h'ere  be- 
low; and  be  carried  into  those  blessed  regions  of  calmness 
and  serenity,  of  peace  and  joy,  of  happinet^s  and  secu- 
rity; when  we  shall  come  unto  the  innumerable  com- 
pany of  angels,  and  the  general  assembly  of  the  church 
of  the  first-born,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect;  and  to  Jesus  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant; 
there  to  behold  the  glory  of  God, 'and  all  the  splendour 
of  the  court  of  heaven;  to  view  and  contemplate  that 
infinite  power  which  created  the  world,  that  unsearch- 
able wisdom  which  ordereth  all  things,  that  unspeakable 
goodness  which  exerteth  both;  nay,  so  to  see  God  as  to 
become  like  unto  him;  and  beholding  with  open  face 
the  glory  of  the  Lord,  to  be  changed  into  the  same 
image,  from  glory  to  glory:  to  receive  the  continual 
illapses  of  the  divine  goodness,  and  the  constant  expres- 
sions of  his  favour  and  love;  and  to  have  our  own  souls 
melted  and  dissolved  into  the  flames  of  reciprocal  affec- 
tion, and  that  fire  fed  and  nourished  by  uninterrupted 
enjoyments:  in  a  word,  to  be  continually  transported 
into  ecstasies  and  raptures,  and  swallowed  up  in  the 
embraces  of  eternal  sweetness,  and  to  be  lost,  as  it 
were,  in  the  source  and  fountain  of  happiness  and 
bliss!  Lord,  what  is  man,  that  thou  takest  knowl- 
edge of  him?  or  the  son  of  man,  that  thou  makest 
such  account  of  him?  and  that  thou  shouldst  set  thine 
heart  so  much  upon  him?  Oh  that  men  would  therefore 
praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful 
works  to  the  children  of  men!  O  give  thanks  unto  the 
Lord,  for  he  is  good:  for  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever. 
Blessed  be  the  nanje  of  the  Lord  from  this  time  forth 
and  for  evermore.     Ameu. 


ON    THE    NATIVITY.  161 


ON    THE    NATIVITY    OF    OUR    SAVIOUR 


O 
PSALM  II.  11.  the  latter  part. 

Rejoice  with  trembling. 
The  observation  of  festivals  being  one  of  those  baJla 
of  contention  which  have  been  tossed  so  hotly  in  the 
religious  debates  of  tliis  unhappy  age,  it  naay  perhaps 
be  expected,  that  we  should  begin  with  a  vindication 
of  this  day's  solemnity  from  the  exceptions  that  are 
wont  to  be  taken  against  it;  and  that  the  one  half  of 
our  sermon  should  be  spent  in  apology  for  the  other. 
But  I  hope  we  may  well  enough  spare  the  pains,  and 
employ  the  time  to  better  purpose.  For  you  who  are 
assembled  in  this  house  are  persuaded,  I  trust,  of  the 
lawfulness  of  your  own  practice;  and  we  cannot  direct 
our  speech  to  those  that  are  absent  from  it.  And  really 
it  were  to  be  wished,  that  there  were  less  noise  and 
debate  about  matters  of  this  nature;  and  that,  being 
agreed  in  the  more  substantial  parts  of  religion,  we  did 
all  charitably  acquiesce  in  that  excellent  advice  of  the 
Apostle,  which  he  giveth  in  a  parallel  instance,  Let  not 
him  that  eateth,  despise  him  that  eateth  not;  and  let 
not  him  that  eateth  not,  judge  him  that  eateth.  And 
then,  as  we  shall  not  abate  any  thing  of  that  love  and 
reverence  which  we  owe  to  the  piety  and  truth  of  those 
who  differ  from  us  in  so  small  matters,  so  we  might 
hope  they  would  not  be  hasty  to  condemn  us,  if  in  com- 
pliance with  the  practice  of  the  ancient  church,  and  the 
present  constitution  of  our  own,  we  take  the  occasion 
of  this  season,  with  thankfulness,  to  remember  the 
greatest  benefit  that  ever  was  conferred  on  the  children 
of  men,  and  at  this  time  perform  that  service  which  can 
never  be  unseasonable.  However,  I  am  confident  it  is 
both  more  hard  and  necessary  to  rectify  and  amend  the 


1G2  ON    THE    NATIVITY 

abuses  of  this  solemnity,  than  to  justify  the  right  obser- 
vation of  it;  to  vindicate  it  from  the  dishonour  of  some 
of  its  pretended  friends,  than  to  defend  it  from  all  the 
assaults  of  aggressors:  and  accordingly  we  shall  make 
it  our  work  to  persuade  you  to  such  a  deportment  on 
this  festival,  as  may  best  suit  with  the  holy  life  and  re- 
ligion of  that  person  whose  nativity  we  commemorate. 
The  text  which  we  have  chosen  may  seem  somewhat 
general,  but  yet  it  is  easily  applicable  to  the  present  oc- 
casion; especially  if  we  remember,  that  it  is  an  inference 
drawn  from  a  prophecy,  which,  though  it  had  its  lite- 
ral completion  in  the  establishment  of  David's  throne, 
yet  it  was,  in  a  mystical  and  a  more  sublime  sense,  ful- 
filled in  the  incarnation  and  kingdom  of  the  IVIessiah; 
as  the  Apostle  in  several  places  informeth  us:  For  to 
which  of  the  angels  hath  he  said  at  any  time,  Thou  art 
my  Son,  this  day  have  I  begotten  thee?  Whence  he  in- 
fers, that  the  angels  themselves  are  inferior  to  Christ,  of 
whom  this  was  spoken.  The  only  difficulty  of  the  words 
lieth  in  the  strange  conjunction  of  these  passions,  joy, 
and  extreme /ear,  which  trembling  seems  to  import; 
but  this  will  be  more  fully  cleared  in  the  sequel  of  our 
discourse.  INIeanwhile  ye  may  observe,  that  both  these 
words, /ear  and  treinhling,  are  used  in  the  text,  and, 
in  the  scripture-phrase,  usually  import  humility,  and 
diligence,  solicitude  and  caution,  and  the  fear  of  dis- 
pleasing, as  being  the  most  proper  qualifications  of  our 
obedience,  either  to  God  or  man.  Thus  are  we  com- 
manded to  work  out  our  salvation  with  fear  and  trem- 
bling; and  servants  are  commanded  to  obey  their  mas- 
ters with  fear  and  trembling:  so  the  Corinthians  are 
said  to  have  received  Titus,  being  sent  to  them,  with 
fear  and  trembling;  and  Chrysostom  saith  of  the  angels, 
that  they  assist  with  fear  and  trembling.  All  which 
places  do  import  such  care  and  diligence,  as  are  very 
necessary  and  reconcilable  to  cheerful  service.  Rev- 
erence, and  fear  to  offend,  will  be  happily  joined  with 
holy  joy  in  the  performance  of  our  duty ;  there  being 
nothing  more  pleasant,  than  to  serve  him  diligently 
whom  we   reverence,  and   fear  to   displease.      Thus 


ON    THE    NATIVITY.  163 

much  for  explication.  The  text  13  too  short  to  be  di- 
vided into  many  parts,  but  doth  naturally  fall  asunder 
into  two;  the  former  exciting  and  encouraging  our  joy; 
the  latter  qualifying  and  moderating  the  same.  First, 
we  are  allowed,  yea,  and  commanded  to  rejoice;  and 
then  we  are  cautioned  to  do  it  with  trembling.  And 
accordingly  our  discourse  shall  run  in  these  two  heads; 
first,  to  exhort  you  to  cheerfulness  and  joy;  then  to  set 
the  right  boimds  and  limits  to  the  same:  and,  having 
done  this  in  general,  we  shall  endeavour  to  draw  both 
these  home  to  the  present  occasion. 

To  begin  with  the  first:  Joy  and  cheerfulness  are  so 
far  from  being  inconsistent  with  religion,  when  rightly 
ordered,  that  we  find  them  many  times  allowed  and  re- 
commended in  Scripture.  Thus  in  the  last  verse  of  the 
32d  Psalm,  Be  glad  in  the  Lord,  and  rejoice,  ye  right- 
eous: and  shout  for  joy,  all  ye  that  are  upright  in  heart. 
And  in  verse  1,  of  the  next  Psalm,  Rejoice  in  the  Lord, 
O  ye  righteous,  for  praise  is  comely  for  the  upright.  So 
Psal.  Ixviii.  3.  Let  the  righteous  be  glad:  let  them  re- 
joice before  the  Lord,  yea,  let  them  exceedingly  rejoice. 
Psal.  cxlix.  5.  Let  the  saints  be  joyful  iu  glory:  let 
them  sing  aloud  upon  their  beds.  And,  that  you  may 
not  think  this  a  liberty  proper  only  for  the  former  dis- 
pensations, but  that  Christians  are  obliged  to  greater  se- 
verity, the  Apostle  doth  no  lefes  than  three  times  give 
this  admonition  to  the  Philippians,  Rejoice  in  the  Lord; 
Rejoice  always  in  the  Lord;  yea,  I  say,  Rejoice.  In  re- 
lation to  this  perhaps  it  was,  that  the  old  hermit  Palladi- 
us,  havirg  five  hundred  scholars,  used  never  to  dismiss 
them  without  this  admonition,  My  friends,  be  cheerful; 
forget  not,  I  beseech  you,  to  be  cheerful.  This  was  the 
constant  lecture  he  repeated,  as  often  as  St.  John  was 
wont  to  do  these  words,  My  little  children,  love  one 
another. 

None  of  our  natural  inclinations  were  made  in  vain ; 
and  joy  is  neither  a  useless  nor  a  small  passion;  but,  if 
rightly  ordered,  may  become  an  eminent  exercise  of  re^ 
ligion,  as  proper  a  concomitant  of  thankfulness,  as  sor- 
row of  repentance.     Our  devotion  never  soareth  higher, 


164  ox    THE    NATIVITY. 

than  when  it  is  carried  on  the  wings  of  joy  and  love, 
when  our  souls  are  filled  with  the  sense  of  his  goodness, 
and  we  heartily  applaud  the  Hallelujahs  of  the  blessed 
spirits,  and  all  the  praises  of  the  creatures.  And  as  joy 
is  an  excellent  instrument  of  devotion,  so  a  constant  se- 
renity and  cheerfulness  of  spirit  is  a  fit  disposition  for 
our  other  duties.  I  should  be  loth  to  countenance  any 
levity  or  dissolution  of  spirit;  and  I  hope,  before  we  have 
done,  we  shall  leave  no  ground  to  suspect  such  a  design: 
and  yet  I  would  not  have  you  imagine  that  innocence 
and  severity  are  inseparable  companions,  or  that  a  free 
and  cheerful  countenance  is  a  certain  sign  of  an  ill  mind, 
or  that  men  ought  always  to  be  sad,  under  the  notion  of 
being  serious.  I  would  not  have  you  in  love  with  a 
studied  face,  nor  think  it  a  crime  to  laugh,  or  scrupulous- 
ly to  refuse  such  innocent  and  ingenious  divertisements 
as  you  find  useful  to  refresh  your  spirits,  and  preserve 
their  alacrity:  for  cheerfulness  enlightens  the  mind,  and 
encourages  the  heart,  and  raiseth  the  soul,  as  it  were  to 
breathe  in  a  purer  air.  It  misbecomes  none  but  the 
wicked,  in  whom  it  is  commonly  a  light  mirth  and  fool- 
ish jollity.  As  a  curious  dress  may  set  oft'  a  handsome 
face,  which  yet  will  render  those  who  are  ugly,  more  ill- 
favoured  ;  so  doth  cheerfulness  exceedingly  become  good 
souls;  in  bad  men  it  is  most  ridiculous.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  sad  and  sullen  humour,  a  dumpish,  morose,  and 
melancholy  disposition,  is  so  far  from  being  commenda- 
ble, that  at  best  it  must  be  looked  upon  as  an  infirmity 
and  weakness  in  the  best  of  those  in  whom  it  resideth; 
and  if  purposely  afl^ected  or  cherished,  may  deserve  a 
severe  censure;  being  dishonourable  to  God,  injurious 
to  our  neighbours,  prejudicial  to  ourselves,  and  a  thing 
highly  unreasonable,  tirst,  it  is  dishonourable  to  God, 
on  whom  we  profess  to  depend,  and  who,  through  our 
moroseness,  may  be  mistaken  for  a  hard  and  severe  mas- 
ter. If  you  should  observe  any  man's  servants  to  be  al- 
ways sad  and  dejected,  and  could  not  guess  at  the  reason 
of  it,  you  would  be  ready  to  conclude,  that  they  were  iU 
treated  at  home,  and  served  an  unkind,  tyrannical  person. 
Aod  therefore,  if  we  have  any  regard  to  the  honour  of 


ON    THE    NATIVITY.  165 

our  master,  we  ought  carefully  to  avoid  any  thing,  from 
which  those  that  are  strangers  to  him,  are  apt  to  take  oc- 
casion to  entertain  harsh  and  disadvantageous  thoughts 
of  him  and  his  service.  Again,  it  is  injurious  to  our 
neighbours;  whom  it  doth  deprive  of  the  comforts  of  soci- 
ety, and  the  innocent  deHghts  of  more  cheerful  converse; 
it  being  better  to  be  confined  to  solitude  than  obliged  to 
live  with  those  who  are  always  sullen.  They  are  not 
like  to  be  good  company  to  others,  who  are  so  bad  com- 
pany to  themselves ;  nor  will  they  easily  endure  to  see 
others  cheerful  and  pleasant,  when  they  cannot  allow 
themselves  so  much  as  to  smile.  Peevishness  and  anger 
are  the  ordinary  companions  of  melancholy;  and  it  is 
hard  for  servants  and  friends  to  please  them  in  any  thing 
who  are  accustomed  to  sadness  and  discontent.  But  this 
is  not  all:  there  is  a  greater  mischief  in  the  matter;  for 
they  who  are  strangers  to  religion,  and  observe  them 
who  pretend  to  it  to  be  always  sad  and  melancholy,  are 
thereby  deterred  from  the  study  of  piety,  as  that  which 
would  imbitter  their  lives,  and  deprive  them  of  all  their 
comforts;  and  they  are  apt  to  imagine,  that  if  once  they 
should  undertake  a  course  of  godliness,  they  should  nev- 
er after  enjoy  a  pleasant  hour,  but,  by  a  melancholy  hu- 
mour, and  austere  behaviour,  become  a  burden  to  them- 
selves, and  a  burden  to  all  about  them.  Then  they  will 
think  devotion  a  comfortless  employment,  when  they 
see  men  come  from  retirements  with  sad  and  heavy 
looks,  morose  and  untowardly  deportment:  whereas 
really  the  spirit  of  religion  is  in  itself  most  amiable  and 
most  lovely,  most  cheerful,  free  and  ingenuous;  and  it  is 
only  men's  weakness,  and  not  their  piety,  that  ought  to 
be  blamed  for  any  such  disorder  in  their  minds. 

Again,  melancholy  and  sadness  is  prejudicial  to  our- 
selves, being  an  enemy  to  nature,  and  hurtful  to  bodily 
constitutions,  especially  when  it  grows  prevalent  and 
extreme;  and  therefore  men  are  obliged  to  be  cheerful 
for  the  same  reasons  they  take  physic,  and  to  guard 
against  melancholy  as  we  would  do  against  a  disease. 
Besides,  it  is  very  troublesome  to  our  spirits,  and  will 
make  us  smart  even  when  we  Icnow  not  why.     Al- 


166  OIC    THE    NATIVITY. 

though  melancholy  musings  may  be  a  very  delightful 
entertainment  to  the  mind;  yet,  in  a  little  time,  they 
grow  to  be  very  troublesome.  Contrary  to  the  nature 
of  other  births,  they  please  us  much  while  we  bring 
them  forth,  but,  prove  a  miserable  torment  when  they 
are  born.  But,  which  is  much  worse,  it  doth  exceed- 
ingly indispose  for  the  duties  of  religion.  The  eyes 
are  not  more  darkened  with  fumes  and  vapours,  than 
the  understanding  is  when  those  sullen  exhalations  gath- 
er about  us.  Clogs  are  not  a  greater  impediment  to  the 
feet,  than  this  humour  to  the  motions  of  the  soul.  It 
inclines  not  oifly  to  think  worse  of  ourselves  and  our 
condition  than  we  need,  but  to  do  worse  than  other- 
wise we  should.  It  represents  those  things  as  exceed- 
ingly difficult  which  may  be  done  with  ease,  and  those 
impossible  which  have  any  considerable  difficulty.  It 
quite  dispirits  us,  and  will  not  suffer  us  to  attempt  any 
thing,  because  we  imagine  we  can  do  nothing.  Al- 
though, perhaps,  in  a  heat  it  may  push  us  forward,  yet 
it  suddenly  stays  us,  and  makes  us  think  we  cannot  go. 
If  it  catcheth  fire,  it  makes  us  wild;  and,  when  it  hath 
spent  that  flame,  it  leaves  us  dead  and  dumpish. 

Lastly,  sadness  and  dejection  of  spirit  in  Christians, 
is  a  thing  very  unreasonable:  for  why  should  they  be  sad 
and  heavy  who  serve  so  good  a  master,  and  who  are 
assured  of  an  infinite  reward  for  their  faithful  service.' 
If  the  favour  of  a  prince,  or  hopes  of  some  earthly  ad- 
vantage, can  support  and  cheer  the  minds  of  men;  why 
should  not  religious  people,  who  have  the  friendship  of 
God,  and  so  many  divine  blessings  in  present  possession, 
and  the  certain  expectation  of  more  and  greater,  cherish 
a  perpetual  joy,  and  ever  be  of  good  comfort;  What 
should  afflict  them  or  cast  them  down?  Is  it  worldly 
crosses  or  fears?  They  have  not  their  portions  in  the 
things  of  this  world:  they  are  strangers  and  pilgrims  on 
earth,  and  cannot  in  reason  be  much  solicitous  about 
their  accommodation  in  an  inn,  which  they  are  so  short- 
ly to  leave.  Besides,  where  is  he  that  doth  not  enjoy 
more  and  greater  comforts  than  those  he  is  deprived  and 
•tands  in  need  of?  Why  then  shouldst  thou  not  be  more 


ON    THE    NATIVITT.  167 

glad  of  what  thou  hast,  than  sorry  for  what  thou  want- 
est?  Perhaps  thou  hast  lost  part  of  thy  fortune,  but  yet 
enjoyest  more  than  many  who  live  happily  enough  not- 
withstanding. Thou  wantest  money,  but  thou  hast  thy 
health.  If  that  be  impaired,  thou  enjoyest  the  use  of 
thy  reason,  which  is  infinitely  more  valuable.  Thou 
hast  lost  a  friend,  but  perhaps  thou  hast  many  behind; 
and  shall  that  loss  do  more  to  make  thee  sad,  than  all 
the  rest  to  make  thee  cheerful?  Or  wilt  thou,  like  a 
peevish  child,  throw  all  away,  because  something  is 
taken  from  thee.'  I  say  not  that  moderate  sadness  is 
blamable  on  such  occasions,  but  that  our  grief  ought  not 
to  be  indulged  till  it  grows  habitual.  And  sure  what- 
ever our  crosses  and  our  fears  be,  we  ought  cheerfully  to 
acquiesce  in  a  constant  dependence  on  the  divine  prov- 
idence; having  that  infinite  wisdom,  and  goodness, 
and  power,  which  made  and  doth  govern  the  world,  to 
care  for  us,  and  the  promise  of  God  for  all  those  things 
which  he  sees  necessary  or  convenient  for  us.  What 
is  it  then  that  should  deject  us,  and  deprive  us  of  that 
joy  which  the  text  alloweth  and  commendeth?  Is  it 
the  sense  of  our  weakness,  and  the  fear  of  missing  that 
eternal  happiness  for  which  we  were  created?  If  thou 
be  altogether  graceless,  such  thoughts  would  seldom 
trouble  thee;  but  if  thou  be  really  concerned  in  re- 
ligion, and  have  a  mind  to  heaven  in  earnest;  if  thou 
hast  begun  thy  race,  and  art  pressing  forward  to  obtain 
thy  prize,  thou  hast  no  reason  to  be  discouraged  or  cast 
down.  God  loves  thee  better  than  thou  dost  either 
him  or  thyself;  and  holiness  is  the  genuine  issue  of 
the  divine  nature:  and  therefore  he  cannot  hide  his  face 
from  it,  he  cannot  desert  it  as  an  outcast  thing  in  the 
world;  nay,  he  is  ready  to  cherish  and  assist  it,  and 
perfect  that  gracious  work  which  himself  hath  begun. 
Away  then  with  gi-oundless  fears  and  despondent 
thoughts,  which  dishonour  God,  and  weaken  your  own 
hands.  Encourage  yourselves  with  the  assurance  of  the 
divine  assistance,  and  cheerfully  perform  that  which 
is  incumbent  upon  yourselves.  Check  the  sadness  of 
your  spirits,  and  chide  yourself  into  better  temper;  as 


168  ON    THE    NATIVITY. 

David  did,  in  Psal.  xlii.  and  xliii.  He  took  up  his 
drooping  mind,  with  this  encouragement,  Why  art  thou 
cast  down,  O  my  soul?  &c. 

But  perhaps  you  will  tell  me,  that  cheerful  temper 
which  we  recommend,  is  very  improper  for  these  bad 
times  wherein  we  live-:  and,  though  we  had  no  trouble 
on  account  of  our  own  interests,  the  miseries  of  others 
might  oblige  us  to  sadness,  and  blunt  and  damp  all  our 
joys.  I  answer,  compassion  indeed  is  a  Christian  vir- 
tue, and  a  good  man  will  be  concerned  in  the  miseries 
under  which  he  sees  his  neighbour  groan,  and  be  ready 
to  assist  him  with  his  counsel,  his  labour,  or  his  purse, 
if  that  will  relieve  him.  But  he  is  not  obliged  to  suffer 
the  calamities  of  others  to  sink  so  deeply  into  his  spirit, 
as  to  disturb  the  peace  and  harmony  of  his  soul,  else, 
since  the  world  is  a  great  hospital  of  misery,  and  we  see 
wellnigh  as  many  miserable  persons  as  men,  we  must 
needs  draw  as  much  misery  on  ourselves,  as  all  theirs 
doth  amount  to,  and  so  deserve  more  compassion  than 
any  of  them.  Again,  if  we  partake  of  the  miseries  of 
others,  so  may  we  in  their  happiness;  if  we  ought  to 
mourn  with  those  that  mourn,  so  we  ought  to  rejoice 
with  them  that  rejoice.  And  though  misery  is  far  more 
frequent  in  the  world  than  happiness,  this  can  be  no 
measure  for  the  whole  creation;  and  for  any  thing  we 
know,  for  one  sinful  wretch,  there  may  be  ten  thousand 
holy  and  happy  spirits.  However,  all  the  misery  in  the 
world  carries  no  proportion  to  the  infinite  happiness  of 
Almighty  God,  which  ought  to  be  the  highest  object  of 
our  joy,  and  may  drown  and  swallow  up  all  the  excuses 
or  pretences  of  excessive  sadness.  We  ought  to  rejoice 
in  God,  not  only  that  he  is  our  God,  but  that  he  is  God 
infinitely  holy,  and  infinitely  happy;  that  he  is  self-bless- 
ed, glorious  in  all  things;  and  that  his  enemies  cannot 
reach  nor  unsettle  his  throne.  This  is  the  most  certain, 
and  constant,  the  most  pure  and  heavenly  joy. 

There  retnaineth  yet  one  occasion  of  grief,  which  some 
may  think  enough  to  banish  all  joy  from  a  Christian 
soul;  and  that  is,  the  multitude  of  sins  whereof  we  and 
others  are  gnilty-     And  certainly,  contrition,  and  zeal 


ON    THE    NATIVITY.  160 

for  the  honour  of  God,  are  very  necessary  duties;  yet 
we  were  not  born  only  to  mourn,  nor  is  the  lainenl<ing 
of  sin  all  we  have  to  do  in  the  world.  We  love  to  see 
a  servant  sensible  of  his  fault,  but  would  be  ill-content 
if  on  that  account  he  did  nothing  but  weep.  Sadness  in 
contrition  is  necessary  to  make  our  repentance  serious, 
and  sadness  of  zeal  to  testify  our  coneernment  in  God's 
interest;  but  on  neither  of  these  accounts  ought  we  to 
grieve  without  terra  or  measure.  As  we  ought  to  grieve 
that  we  have  offended  so  gracious  a  God,  so  ought  we 
to  rejoice  that  the  God  whom  we  have  offended  is  so 
gracious:  and  since  the  greatness  of  God's  mercy  is  as 
far  above  our  sins,  as  the  heavens  are  above  the  earth, 
our  faith  and  joy  in  God's  mercy  ought  to  be  far  above 
our  sadness  for  our  sins.  Whereas  the  blasphemies  and 
oppositions  of  God's  eriemies,  by  his  wisdom  and  pow- 
er, shall  turn  to  his  glory ;  our  sadness  for  these  oppo- 
sitions must  end  in  joy,  for  that  almighty  power  and 
sovereign  glory,  which  the  enmity  of  Satan,  and  the 
world,  and  the  flesh,  doth  but  make  more  conspicuous 
by  pulling  against  it. 

By  this  time  I  hope  it  doth  appear,  that  joy  and  cheer- 
fulness are  more  allowable  in  Christians,  than  some  men 
perhaps  are  ready  to  imagine.  I  shall  add  no  more  to 
this  purpose;  but  that  it  is  the  privilege  of  a  holy  and 
religious  soul,  that  every  thing  he  meets  with  may  afford 
him  occasion  of  joy.  If  he  Looks  up  to  heaven,  it  puts 
him  in  mind  of  the  mansions  that  are  preparing  for  him; 
if  on  the  earth,  it  rejoiceth  him  to  think  of  his  interest 
in  Him  who  made  and  governs  the  same.  If  he  con- 
siders the  changes  and  revolutions  of  human  affairs,  it 
satisfies  him  to  remember,  that  an  unerring  providence 
doth  overrule  all  their  seeming  disorders,  and  makes 
them  all  serve  to  great  and  glorious  designs.  If  he  live 
long,  he  is  glad  of  the  large  time  he  is  allowed  to  do 
his  work  in;  and,  if  he  die  soon,  he  is  glad  that  he  is  so 
soon  come  to  the  end  and  reward  of  his  work.  If  he 
be  richer  than  his  neighbours,  he  rejoiceth  in  the  op- 
portunity of  obliging  them;  and,  if  they  be  richer  than 
he,  he  rejoiceth  that  they  have  the  plenty  and  splendoar 
15 


170  OW    THE    WATIVITY. 

which  riches  afford,  and  that  he  wants  the  care  and 
temptations  that  attend  them.  As  many  miseries  as  he 
seeth,  so  many  arguments  he  hath  to  glorify  God,  and 
rejoice  in  his  goodness,  saying,  Blessed  be  God  that  I 
am  not  maimed  like  that  begging  soldier,  nor  frantic  like 
that  bedlamite,  nor  in  prison  like  that  bankrupt,  nor  like 
that  thief  in  shackles,  nor  in  perpetual  trouble  like  that 
counsellor  of  state. 

But  joy  is  a  passion  so  pleasing  unto  nature,  that  most 
men  ar«  easily  persuaded  unto  it,  those  especially  who 
have  the  least  ground  for  it.  And  what  we  have  said 
hitherto,  may  have  the  ill  luck  to  be  mivStaken  or  wrested 
by  profane  persons,  for  the  defence  of  their  jollity  and 
frolicksome  mirth.  But  it  should  be  considered,  that  our 
exhortation  to  cheerfulness  and  joy  presupposeth  men  to 
be  good  and  religious,  and  is  addressed  to  them  on  that 
presumption:  for  we  should  never  encourage  men  to  re- 
joice and  be  cheerful,  while  they  are  at  enmity  with 
their  maker,  at  feud  with  the  infinite  Majesty  of  heaven, 
whose  least  frown  is  enough  to  confound  them.  We 
would  not  have  men  to  dance  on  the  brink  of  hell,  nor 
wantonly  exult  in  the  way  that  leads  to  destruction. 
Another  temper  would  better  become  their  unhappy 
condition,  and  they  ought  to  be  thinking  how  a  timely 
sorrow  may  lay  a  sure  foundation  for  a  lasting  joy. 
Again,  the  joy  which  we  commend,  is  a  quite  diflerent 
thing  from  that  levity  and  dissolution  of  spirit  whi<;h 
some  persons  would  cover  under  that  name.  We  allow 
not  that  light  airy  temper  that  is  inconsistent  with  gra- 
vity and  seriousness.  We  would  not  have  a  man'g 
whole  life  become  a  sport,  nor  mirth  to  become  his 
whole  employment.  Of  such  laughter  we  may  say, 
with  the  wise  man,  that  it  is  mad;  and  of  mirth.  What 
doth  it?  The  cheerfulness  we  have  been  speaking  of, 
must  spring  from  the  sense  of  the  divine  goodness,  and 
the  conscience  of  our  sincerity  in  his  service;  though  we 
are  not  to  refuse  the  assistance  of  innocent  acts  to  raise 
and  recruit  our  natural  spirits  when  they  faint  and  fail 
within  us.  Finally,  that  our  cheerfulness  and  joy  may  be 
allowable,  it  must  be  rightly  tempered.     Which  leads 


ON    THE    NATIVITY.  171 

me  to  the  second  part  of  the  text;  which  if  it  do  not 
check,  it  doth  at  least  mix  and  qualify  our  joy:  rejoice 
we  may,  but  it  must  be  with  trembling.  Trembling  is  a 
natural  effect  and  sign  of  fear;  and  is  here  put  for  the 
thing  signified.  Now,  fear  may  seem  to  be  the  most 
useless  and  unprofitable  passion  in  the  mind:  it  is  that 
which  presages  mischief  and  anticipates  our  miseries, 
giving  them  a  being  before  they  had  any,  and  troubling 
us  with  the  apprehension  of  those  evils  which  may 
never  befall  us,  and  hindering  us  to  guard  against  many 
which  we  might  have  prevented:  betraying  those  suc- 
cours which  reason  offereth,  as  the  wise  sou  of  David 
tells  us.  The  historian,  speaking  of  the  Persians,  who 
in  their  flight  flung  away  their  weapons  of  defence,  add- 
eth  this  observation.  Adeo  timor  ipsa  auxilia  i'efor~ 
midat:  Such  is  the  nature  of  fear,  that  it  not  only 
makes  us  flee  from  danger,  but  from  those  helps  and 
succours  which  should  keep  it  off.  But,  as  Alexander 
said  of  his  fierce  and  stately  horse,  Qualem  isti  eguum 
perdunt,  dum  eo  perimperitiam  uti  nesciunt!  What 
a  brave  horse  is  lost  for  want  of  skill  to  manage  him! 
so  we  may  say  of  fear,  that  they  who  would  discharge 
it,  do  lose  a  useful  passion,  not  knowing  how  to  order 
it.  Fear,  doubtless,  is  an  excellent  instrument,  both  of 
reason  and  of  religion.  And  as  all  our  passions,  so 
especially  fear,  are  as  winds,  which  although  they  some- 
times drive  us  upon  rocks,  yet,  rightly  improved,  may 
swell  our  sails,  and  carry  us  on  to  the  haven  where  we 
would  be.  Hence  we  may  find  it  so  frequently  com- 
manded in  Scripture,  and  so  profitably  practised  by  wise 
and  holy  persons.  The  question  then  is.  What  kind  of 
fear  and  trembling  is  enjoined  here  in  the  text?  And, 
first,  as  for  the  object,  certainly  the  wrath  and  displea- 
sure of  God  is  the  most  proper  and  suitable  object  of  our 
fear:  it  is  this  that  we  ought  to  look  on  as  the  greatest 
evil,  and  to  shun  with  the  greatest  care.  And  this  fear, 
if  rightly  seated  in  our  souls,  will  make  us  very  watch- 
ful against  the  smallest  sins,  and  make  us  heartily  sor- 
ry for  the  offences  of  others.  But  though  the  fear  of 
God's  displeasure  be  more  excellent  and  useful,  yet  th© 


172  ON    THE    NATlrlTI. 

fear  of  our  own  misery  is  not  to  be  condemned:  it  is  use- 
ful, not  only  to  wicked  persons,  whom  though  it  doth 
not  make  good,  yet  it  keeps  them  from  being  worse; 
but  also  to  holy  persons,  whom  the  fear  of  hell  hath 
many  times  helped  forward  to  heaven.  Our  Saviour 
himself  adviseth  us  to  fear  him  who  can  cast  body  and 
soul  into  hell-fire.  And,  that  we  may  not  forget  it,  he 
drives  it  home  with  an  ingemination.  Yea,  I  say  unto 
you,  Fear  him;  where  we  are  to  observe,  that  qui  im- 
ports as  much  as  quia;  the  description  of  the  person  car- 
rieth  the  reason  for  which  we  ought  to  fear  him.  It  were 
indeed  to  be  wished,  that  our  souls  were  knit  unto  God 
by  the  more  noble  and  generous  passion  of  love,  and  that 
we  needed  neither  rewards  to  draw  us  to  our  duty,  nor 
punishments  to  chase  us  to  our  happiness;  and  that  we 
loved  goodness  as  Cato  was  said  to  do  virtue,  because 
he  could  not  do  othenvise.  But  this  is,  with  the  histo- 
rian, votum  accommodare,  non  historiam;  to  present 
a  wish,  rather  than  a  character  of  an  ordinary  Christian; 
or,  as  Xenophon  did  with  Cyrus,  to  describe  rather 
what  he  should  be,  than  what  he  is.  Perfect  love,  as 
St.  John  tells  us,  casteth  out  all  fear:  but,  while  our  love 
is  imperfect,  it  leaves  room  for  some  fear.  Hell  is  cer- 
tainly in  our  creed  as  well  as  heaven;  and  as  the  fear  of 
it  is  ordinarily  the  first  step  of  conversion,  so  it  may  be 
of  use  to  quicken  us,  and  push  us  forward  all  along 
through  our  journey  toward  heaven.  But  if  Christiana 
fear  may  have  hell  for  its  object,  what  kind  of  fear  may 
this  be?  In  a  word,  it  ought  not  to  be  such  an  anxious 
and  troublesome  fear,  as  may  disturb  our  tranquillity,  or 
extinguish  our  joy,  or  discourage  our  endeavours;  but  so 
rational  and  modest  as  may  make  us  reverend  in  our 
love,  modest  in  our  confidence,  and  cautious  in  our  joy, 
that  it  neither  betray  us  to,  nor  vent  itself  m  any  un- 
seemly expressions. 

And  thus  much  of  the  duty  recommended  in  the  text. 
It  is  high  time  now  to  apply  these  generals  to  the  present 
occasion.  We  are  assembled  this  day  to  commemorate 
the  greatest  blessing  that  ever  was  bestowed  on  the  chil- 
dren of  men;  a  ble^ing  wherein  all  the  nations  of  the 


ON    THE    NATIVITY.  173 

world  are  concerned,  and  yet  whose  fruits  do  as  entirely 
redound  to  every  good  man,  as  if  it  had  been  designed 
for  him  alone;  a  mercy  that  doth  at  once  astonish  and 
rejoice  the  angels,  who  in  comparison  of  us  are  uncon- 
cerned in  it.  These  mountains  do  leap  for  joy,  because 
the  valleys  were  filled  with  a  fruitful  shower:  for  when 
those  glorious  spirits  did  behold  God  stooping  to  the  con- 
dition of  a  man,  and  man  raised  above  the  lowliness  of 
his  state,  and  the  happiness  of  all  the  angels,  they  were 
transported  with  admiration  of  the  mystery,  and  joy 
for  the  felicity  of  their  fellow-creatures:  and  did  with 
the  greatest  cheerfulness  perform  the  embassies  they 
were  sent  upon  in  this  great  aflfeir.  For  having  before 
advertised  the  blessed  virgin  of  her  miraculous  concep- 
tion, lest  her  modesty  should  have  been  offended  at  so 
strange  an  accident,  and  having  removed  the  suspicion 
of  her  betrothed  husband,  they  rejoice  to  bring  the  first 
news  of  that  infinite  mercy  which  we  remember  this 
day.  For  as  certain  shepherds  were  feeding  their  flocks 
by  night,  an  angel  of  the  Lord  appeared  unto  them, 
and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shone  round  about  them ;  and 
when  this  glorious  appearance  had  confounded  their 
senses,  and  almost  scattered  their  understanding,  the  an- 
gel said  unto  them.  Fear  not;  for  behold,  I  bring  unto 
you  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  unto  all  people. 
For  unto  you  is  born  this  day  in  the  city  of  David,  a 
Saviour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  suddenly  there 
was  with  the  angel  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host,  the 
whole  choir  of  glorious  spirits,  who  all  joined  in  this 
heavenly  anthem,  Glory  to  God  on  high,  on  earth  peace, 
and  good-will  towards  men.  And  may  not  that  help  to 
heighten  and  advance  our  joy  and  our  thankfulness? 
Can  we  be  insensible  of  our  happiness  when  angels  do 
so  heartily  congratulate  it?  It  is  a  nativity  which  we 
celebrate,  and  any  birth  doth  much  rejoice  persons  inter- 
ested: a  woman  forgets  her  pangs  when  a  man-child 
is  born  into  the  world. 

But,  that  our  joy  and  thankfulness  may  be  the  more 
^XGited,  we  shall,  first,  consider  the  excellency  of  the 
15* 


174  ON    THE    NATIVITY. 

person  who  was  born:  secondly,  the  design  of  his  birth; 
and,  thirdly,  glance  a  little  at  the   circumstances  of  it. 

First,  then,  he  was  no  common  and  ordinary  person 
whose  birth  occasions  our  joy.  If  we  shall  but  fix  our 
eyes  on  his  human  nature,  and  consider  those  excellen- 
cies that  were  obvious  to  the  eyes  of  the  world,  we 
shall  yet  acknowledge,  that  never  such  a  person  appear- 
ed on  the  face  of  the  earth.  It  is  he  whose  nativity 
was  promised  immediately  after  the  fall,  and  so  exactly 
pointed  at  by  the  Prophets  many  hundred  years  before 
it  happened,  that  the  Jews  could  tell  the  place,  and  the 
very  heathens  had  some  knowledge  of  the  time:  for  the 
world  was  big  with  expectation,  that  the  prophecies 
should  then  be  fulfilled,  which  foretold  the  birth  of  a 
great  person.  Lastly,  it  is  he  whose  very  infancy  not 
only  startled  a  king,  and  made  him  fear  his  throne,  but 
also  affrighted  the  powers  of  darkness,  and  silenced 
the  heathen  oracles,  Ille  puer  Hehrcous,  &c. ;  whose 
childhood  puzzled  the  knowledge  of  the  aged,  and  con- 
founded the  doctors  of  the  law;  who  ruled  the  course 
of  nature,  and  made  the  strong  winds  obey  him,  and 
could  walk  on  the  billows  of  the  seas  as  on  a  pave- 
ment; who  fed  multitudes  by  his  word,  and  healed 
all  manner  of  diseases  without  medicine;  who  could 
command  them  to  leap  that  were  cripple,  and  make 
them  see  the  heavens  and  the  day  who  had  been  bom 
blind;  and  who  could  cast  devils  out  of  their  possessions, 
and  restore  the  frantic  to  their  wits;  who  could  break 
the  gates  of  death,  and'  open  the  doors  of  the  grave, 
and  call  back  the  spirits  to  the  buried  carcasses. 

It  is  he,  who,  by  the  ministry  of  twelve  fishermen, 
made  his  religion,  though  contrary  to  the  corrupt  affec- 
tions and  carnal  interests  of  men,  quickly  subdue  the 
known  world,  and  submit  to  a  crucified  king.  The 
doctrine  which  he  taught,  mastered  the  understanding  of 
the  most  learned  philosophers,  conquered  the  spirits  of 
the  most  valiant  commanders,  and  outwitted  the  cun- 
ning of  the  subtlest  politicians:  it  cancelled  the  ceremo- 
nies of  the  Jew,  confounded  the  wisdom  of  the  Greek, 


ON    THE    NATIVITY.  175 

and  instructed  the  rudeness  of  the  barbarian;  and  re- 
mains still  in  the  world  a  constant  evidence  of  the  au- 
thor's wisdom  and  power.  And  what  shall  we  speak 
of  the  goodness  and  moral  endowments  of  that  human 
nature,  which  were  as  miraculous  as  his  power!  Nay,  all 
his  miracles  were  instances  of  the  one  as  well  as  of  the 
other.  Should  we  speak  of  his  ardent  piety  and  devo- 
tion, his  love  to  God,  and  his  zeal  for  his  honour,  his 
amiable  meekness  and  humility,  his  universal  charity 
and  compassion  even  toward  his  bitter  enemies,  his 
venerable  purity  and  temperance,  the  noble  contempt 
of  the  world,  all  those  other  virtues  which  shined  so 
eminently  in  his  whole  conversation:  a  sermon  were 
too  little  for  every  particular.  But  this  is  not  all:  He 
was  not  only  far  above  other  men,  but  infinitely  above 
the  angels;  being  personally  united  to  the  divine  nature. 
He  was  God  as  well  as  man.  And,  by  communica- 
tion of  properties,  it  may  be  said,  that  he  whom  we 
now  behold  in  a  cradle,  hath  his  throne  in  the  heaven, 
and  fiUeth  all  things  by  his  immensity;  that  he  who  was 
wrapt  in  swaddling  clothes,  is  now  clothed  in  hifinite 
glory;  and  he  whom  we  find  in  a  stable  among  beasts, 
is  the  same  with  him  encircled  with  millions  of  angels. 
In  a  word,  that  great  person  whose  nativity  we  cele- 
brate, is  divinely  embodied,  God  made  flesh.  This 
union  of  the  divine  and  human  nature,  is  a  mystery 
great  enough  to  confound  our  understanding,  but  not  to 
trouble  or  shake  our  faith,  who  know  many  things  to 
be  which  we  cannot  know  how  they  are,  and  are  not 
able  to  give  any  account  of  the  union  between  the  soul 
and  the  body,  or  of  the  parts  of  nature  among  them- 
selves, which  yet  we  never  call  in  question. 

And  thus  much  of  the  dignity  of  Christ's  person, 
which  is  the  first  ground  of  our  joy;  we  proceed  to  the 
second,  the  design  of  his  birth.  He  was  lord  of  the  -- 
world;  but  came  not  into  it  to  exercise  dominion,  nor  as 
the  Jews  expected,  to  procure  their  temporal  redemption, 
and  restore  the  kingdom  to  Israel.  He  came  not  for  so 
mean  a  purpose  as  the  Jews  expected,  to  procure  their 
temporal  redemption,  to  make  his  followers  rich  and 


176  ON    THE    NATIVITY. 

honourable,  fortunate  or  conspicuous  in  the  world;  nay, 
hoth  by  precept  and  example  he  taught  them  to  contemn 
and  despise  all  such  empty  trifles:  but  he  came  to  de- 
liver his  people  from  everlasting  destruction,  and  from 
the  captivity  of  sin,  and  to  teach  them  how  by  a  holy- 
life  they  might  obtain  an  endless  happiness.  He  came 
not  indeed  to  purchase  ns  a  liberty  to  sin,  without  haz- 
ard, and  then  to  cover  all  our  iniquities  with  his  right- 
eousness; to  let  us  live  as  we  list,  and  assure  us  of  par- 
don. Nay,  it  had  neither  been  consistent  with  his  love 
to  God,  to  have  procured  pardon  for  obstinate  and  in- 
corrigible rebels;  nor  so  great  a  benefit  to  us,  to  have 
obtained  remission  without  sanctification.  Had  we  been 
delivered  from  all  other  punishment,  sin  itself  would 
have  made  us  miserable.  But  Christ  came  into  the 
world  to  save  his  people  from  their  sins,  as  Avell  as 
from  the  dismal  consequences  of  them;  and  to  procure 
for  us,  that,  being  delivered  out  of  the  hands  of  our 
enemies,  we  might  serve  him  without  fear,  in  holiness 
and  righteousness  before  him.  In  a  word,  Christ  came 
into  the  world  to  advance  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
happiness  of  the  earth,  by  restoring  us  to  the  favour  of 
our  maker,  and  a  conformity  to  him.  And  certainly, 
if  we  have  any  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin  or  the  misery  of 
hell,  of  the  beauty  of  holiness  or  the  glory  of  heaven, 
it  must  needs  be  a  matter  of  great  joy,  to  celebrate  the 
birth  of  him  who  doth  deliver  us  from  the  one,  and 
give  us  assurance  of  the  other. 

It  remaineth  yet,  that  we  speak  of  the  circumstances 
of  the  nativity  which  we  celebrate;  and  many  thin^ 
present  themselves  full  of  comfort  and  instruction.  We 
shall  only  observe  our  Saviour's  coming  into  the  world 
after  that  manner  which  did  best  suit  with  his  design. 
Indeed  when  a  man  should  hear  of  the  Son  of  God's 
coming  down  from  heaven,  and  making  a  progress  into 
the  lower  world,  he  would  be  apt  to  think  that  his  ap- 
pearance would  be  with  the  greatest  splendour  and 
magnificence,  and  that  the  glory  of  heaven  should  con- 
tinually attend  and  signalize  his  person;  at  least,  that 
^11  the  princes  in  the  world  should  be  summoned  to  at- 


ON   THE   NATIVITY.  177 

tend  his  reception,  and  that  the  heavens  should  bow  at 
his  presence,  and  the  earth  tremble  at  the  approach  of 
his  majesty,  and  that  all  the  clouds  should  clap  together 
in  an  universal  thunder,  to  welcome  his  appearance. 
But,  instead  of  all  this  pomp  and  grandeur,  he  slips  into 
the  world  (as  they  say)  incognito,  is  born  in  a  village, 
discovered  by  some  poor  shepherds,  and  found  by  them 
in  a  stable,  and  such  a  homely  cradle  as  that  afforded, 
only  attended  by  his  poor  mother;  who,  though  of  royal 
blood,  had  nothing  but  goodness  to  make  her  eminent. 
And  his  education  was  answerable  to  his  obscure  birth, 
and  his  whole  life  a  course  of  humility  and  self-denial. 
Now  certainly,  this  far  best  agrees  with  the  design  of 
his  appearance,  who  came  not  on  so  mean  an  errand  as 
to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  mankind  with  the  appearance  of 
his  glory,  nor  to  amaze  them  with  the  terribleness  of 
his  majesty;  much  less  to  make  a  show  of  the  riches 
and  gallantry  of  the  world  amongst  them ;  but  to  bring 
life  and  immortality  to  light,  and  lead  men  to  eternal 
happiness.  In  order  to  which,  it  was  n  cessary,  that, 
by  his  example,  as  well  as  doctrine,  he  should  dispar- 
age the  vanities  of  the  world,  and  bring  them  out  of 
that  credit  and  esteem  they  had  gotten  among  foolish 
men. 

I  shall  proceed  no  farther  on  this  subject.  I  hope  it 
doth  appear  that  we  have  great  reason  to  rejoice  in  the 
exaltation  of  the  human  nature,  and  the  great  salvation 
purchased  to  us  by  the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God. 
1  shall  add,  that  even  this  joy  admits  of  holy  fear;  even 
on  this  occasion  we  must  rejoice  with  trembling.  Sal- 
vation is  come  into  the  world;  but  wo  to  them  that  neg- 
lect it'  The  gospel  is  preached;  but  there  is  great  dan- 
ger in  slighting  it.  Let  us  therefore  fear,  lest  a  promise 
being  left  us  of  entering  into  his  rest,  any  of  us  should 
come  short  of  it.  Little  cause  have  obstinate  sinners  to 
rejoice  on  this  festival.  The  time  is  coming  that  they 
shall  wish  that  either  Christ  had  never  come  into  the 
world,  or  they  had  never  heard  of  him:  Behold,  this 
child  is  set  for  the  rise  and  fall  of  many.  And  they 
that  are  not  the  better,  shall  be  the  worse  for  his  com- 


178  ON   THE   PASSIOW, 

ing.  One  way  I  mu.st  name,  that  many  men  set  this 
child  for  their  own  fall,  when  they  make  this  solemn  an- 
niversary an  opportunity  of  sinning  and  debauchery;  as 
if  it  where  indeed  a  drunken  Bacchus,  and  not  a  holy 
Jesus,  whom  they  worshipped.  What!  sirs,  because 
God  became  man,  must  we  therefore  become  beasts?  or 
think  we  to  honour  that  child  with  dissoluteness,  who 
came  to  the  world  on  design  of  holiness?  This  it  is,  no 
doubt,  that  gives  many  men  a  prejudice  against  the  fes- 
tival itself,  and  perhaps  is  their  most  specious  argument. 
We  know  an  answer;  but  you  may,  and  ought  to  afford 
another,  by  removing  any  ground  of  such  a  pretence. 
Indeed  a  forenoon's  sermon  will  never  compensate  an 
afternoon's  debauch; nor  will  your  service  in  the  church 
justify  your  intemperance  at  home.  But  as  hereby  at 
least  some  time  is  redeemed  from  the  too  frequent  cours- 
es of  the  day,  so  I  wish  the  time  we  spend  here,  may 
have  some  influence  towards  the  right  improvement  of 
the  rest;  that  our  behaviour  on  the  solemnity  may  be 
such  as  suits  .vith  the  infinite  holiness  of  that  person 
whom  we  profess  to  honour,  that  we  may  serve  th^ 
Lord  with  fear,  and  rejoice  with  trembling. 


ON    THE    PASSION    OF    OUR    SAVIOUR. 


LAM.  I.  12, 

Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by?  behold 
and  see,  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  my 
sorrow. 

Wk  are  to-morrow,  God  willing,  to  be  employed  in 
one  of  the  highest  and  n)Ost  solemn  othces  of  our  religion, 
to  commemorate  the  death  and  sufferings  of  the  blessed 
Jesus,  and  to  receive  the  sacred  pledge  of  his  dying:  and 
how  much  may  the  everlasting  interests  of  our  souls  de-- 
pend  upon  the  right  performing  of  this  work! 


CN   THE   PAS-SIOW.  17d 

It  is  not  tiriK;  now  to  discourse  of  the  natnre  and  ends 
of  the  sacrament  we  are  about  to  celebrate;  we  are  to 
suppose  you  already  instructed  in  these:  we  shall  rather 
fix  our  thoughts  on  those  things  which  may  have  a  more 
immediate  influence  to  dispose  us  for  so  near  and  sol- 
emn an  address  unto  God,  and  to  assist  and  direct  us  in 
it.  And  1  know  nothing  more  proper  for  this  purpose, 
than  the  serious  consideration  of  those  sufferings  of  our 
Saviour,  which  are  to  be  symbolically  represented  unto 
us  in  that  holy  ordinance. 

This  passionate  complaint  of  the  prophet  Jeremiahj 
which  we  have  read,  though  in  its  first  and  literal  sense 
it  may  refer  to  the  sad  condition  of  the  Jewish  nation 
and  the  holy  city  under  the  Babylonish  captivity,  (as 
many  prophecies  concerning  the  Messiah  had  a  literal 
completion  in  those  who  were  his  types;)  yet  certainly 
in  its  highest  and  fullest  sense  it  is  only  applicable  to  our 
blessed  Saviour:  of  him  alone  it  could  be  said,  in  strict- 
ness and  propriety  of  speech,  that  there  was  never  sor* 
row  like  his  sorrow. 

Let  us  then  consider  the  words  as  our  Saviour's  com- 
plaint of  the  dulness  and  stupidity  of  men,  who  go  up 
and  down  in  the  world,  who  come  and  pass,  without  re- 
garding his  sufterings,  which  were  so  grievous,  wherein 
themselves  are  so  nearly  concerned.  And  from  thence 
I  would  consider  these  three  things. 

1.  The  greatness  of  our  Saviour's  euff'erings,  express* 
ed  in  these  words,  See  if  there  be  any  sorroio  like 
unto  my  sorrow. 

2.  Our  interest  and  concernment  in  them,  insinuated 
in  that  passionate  inteiTOgation,   Is  it  nothing  to  youl 

3.  That  his  sivfterings  ought  not  to  be  passed  by,  but 
seriously  regarded  and  considered:  Is  it  nothing  to 
you,  all  ye  that  pass  by?  ^'c. 

I.  Let  us  reflect  on  our  Saviour's  sufferings.  But  O 
where  shall  we  begin  to  recount  them!  His  whole  life, 
from  the  manger,  his  uneasy  cradle,  unto  his  cross  and 
grave,  was  a  continued  tract  of  sufferings.  He  did  all 
along  answer  that  character  given  of  him  by  the  Proph- 
et, A  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with  grief. 


180  ON   THE   PASSION. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  meanness  of  his  birth,  and  the 
pains  of  circumcision,  tl>e  persecutions  of  his  infancy, 
his  poverty  and  want,  his  travail  and  weariness;  his 
fasting  and  watching,  his  sweat  and  his  tears,  and  all 
the  other  infirmities  incident  to  our  human  nature,  and 
inconveniences  attending  a  poor  and  straitened  estate; 
he  could  not  but  lead  a  very  sad  and  afflicted  life,  con- 
sidering that  he  lived  in  a  perverse  and  wicked  genera- 
tion, and  the  continual  trouble  of  being  witness  to  the 
follies  and  miscarriages  of  wicked  men;  to  hear  and  see 
dishonour  done  unto  God  by  the  profaneness  of  some, 
and  hypocrisy  of  others;  to  observe  the  covetousness 
and  injustice,  the  fraud  and  oppression,  the  malice  and 
envy,  and  all  the  abominable  lusts  that  abounded  in  the 
world  in  his  days.  We  are  commonly  little  concerned 
in  the  interests  of  religion;  and  therefore  do  apprehend 
but  little  trouble  in  these.  But,  if  the  soul  of  righteous 
Lot  was  grieved  with  the  iniquities  of  the  place  where 
he  lived,  and  if  David  is  put  to  cry  out.  Wo  is  me  that 
I  sojourn  in  Mesech,  that  I  dwell  in  the  tents  of  Kedar; 
how  deeply  do  we  think  the  blessed  soul  of  the  holy 
Jesus  must  needs  have  been  pierced,  by  every  blasphe- 
mous word  that  he  heard,  by  every  wicked  action  he  be- 
held! Doubtless  it  was  no  small  sorrow  that  made  him 
cry  out,  O  faithless  and  perverse  generation,  how  long 
shall  I  be  with  you?  how  long  shall  I  suffer  you?  Nor 
was  he  a  little  moved,  when  his  zeal  did  carry  him  to 
that  severity,  vv-hich,  if  we  did  not  consider  the  cause, 
would  seem  very  unlike  to  the  wonted  meekness  of  his 
spirit,  in  whipping  the  trader^out  of  the  temple.  And 
hereunto  his  tender  compassion  towards  men,  which 
could  not  but  make  him  exceeding  sorry,  to  see  them 
frustrate  the  method  of  his  mercy,  and  ruin  themselves  by 
their  enmity  against  him ;  to  hear  them  reproach  the  holy 
doctrine  which  he  taught,  and  undervalue  the  miracles 
which  he  performed,  or  else  condemn  them  as  the  un- 
lawful effects  of  magical  skill;  that  though  he  came  un- 
to his  own,  yet  his  own  received  him  not;  though  he 
spake  as  never  man  spake,  and  did  such  works  as  would 
have  converted  Tyre  and  Sidon,  yet  did  they  baffle  their 


ON    fHE    PASSION.  181 

own  reason,  and  persist  in  their  infidelity,  because,  for- 
sooth, they  knew  the  phice  and  manner  of  his  education; 
as  though  his  being  reputed  the  carpenter's  son,  had  been 
a  sufficient  answer  to  all  that  he  could  say  or  do.  This 
was  the  occasion  of  his  tears  over  that  wretched  and  un- 
grateful city:  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  killest 
the  prophets,  and  stonest  them  that  are  sent  unto  thee, 
how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together, 
even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings, 
and  ye  would  not!  If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at 
least  in  this  thy  day,  the  things  which  belong  unto  thy 
peace!  but  now  they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes. 

We  have  no  time  to  reflect  on  all  the  sad  passages 
which  occur  in  the  history  of  our  Saviour's  life;  let  us 
fix  our  eyes  a  little  on  some  of  the  last  scenes^  and  we 
shall  find  them  the  blackest  that  ever  were  acted  on  the 
human  nature.  At  the  approach  of  death,  it  is  said,  he 
began  to  be  sorrowful,  as  if  he  had  never  felt  any  grief 
before.  His  former  afflictions  were  like  scattered  drop3 
of  rain;  but,  in  this  great  deluge,  all  the  fountains  be- 
neath, and  all  the  windows  of  heaven  were  opened;  the 
wrath  of  God  against  a  sinful  world,  the  malice  and 
cruelty  of  men,  the  rage  and  fury  of  devils,  break  out 
together  against  him.  If  we  take  the  measure  of  his 
sufferings  by  the  apprehensions  which  he  had  of  them 
before,  we  shall  find  that,  when  he  is  talking  with  his 
disciples  about  them,  and  encouraging  himself  and  his 
followers  with  the  assurance  of  the  reward  set  before 
them;  yet  he  doth  not  dissemble  the  fear  and  trouble 
wherewith  he  was  seized:  Now  is  my  soul  troubled;  and 
what  shall  I  say?  Father,  save  me  from  this  hour,  &c. 
Certainly,  if  there  had  been  no  more  in  his  sufferings 
than  what  is  commonly  incident  to  human  nature,  as  to 
endure  pain  or  death,  he  who  had  a  perfect  innocency, 
the  freest  and  most  entire  resignation,  the  fullest  assur- 
ance of  the  reward  to  come,  would  never  have  been  half 
so  much  affrighted  with  the  apprehension  of  them.  The 
view  of  that  sad  night's  transaction,  wherein  he  was 
delivered  into  the  hands  of  sinners,  presents  us  with  a 
strange  and  amazing  spectacle.  Look  into  the  garden, 
16 


182  ON    THE    PA6S!0N. 

and  behold  the  Son  of  God  prostrate  with  his  face  upou 
the  ground,  in  the  saddest  discomposure  of  spirit  that 
could  possibly  consist  with  his  perfect  innocency.  He 
was  sorrowful  and  very  heavy,  and  tells  his  disciples. 
My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death.  It 
seems,  had  he  remained  long  in  this  condition,  his  own 
grief  would  have  killed  him.  Here  it  was  that  he  suf- 
fered that  which  the  Evangelist  calleth  an  agony;  but 
what  the  nature  and  measures  of  it  were,  he  alone  can 
tell  who  did  feel  it.  It  is  not  possible  for  us  to  compre- 
hend the  mixture  of  that  bitter  cup:  yet  we  may  guess 
some  ingredients  of  it.  And,  first,  without  question,  he 
had  a  clearer  fiwesight  of  that  painful  and  cursed  death 
which  he  was  so  shortly  after  to  undergo.  This  king 
of  terrors  did  represent  himself  to  him  in  his  greatest 
pomp,  clothed  with  all  the  circumstances  of  horror. 
And  even  this  could  not  but  be  very  dreadful,  perhaps 
more  to  him  than  it  would  have  been  to  some  other  per- 
son. There  is  a  sort  of  natural  stoutness  and  courage 
depending  much  on  the  temper  and  constitution  of  the 
body,  and  which  doth  commonly  accompany  the  rough- 
est and  most  stubborn  natures;  when  those  of  a  more 
sweet  and  benign  disposition,  are  many  times  obnoxious 
to  deeper  impressions  of  fear.  And  it  will  not  derogate 
from  the  honour  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  though  we  should 
sarpose,  that,  amongst  other  infirmities,  he  might  be 
much  liable  to  this  natural  and  innocent  passion.  The 
true  graatness  of  the  soul,  doth  not  consist  in  the  vigour 
of  the  natural  spirits,  nor  the  sturdy  boldness  of  an  un- 
daunted humour;  but  in  a  holy  steadfastness  and  resolu- 
tion to  undergo  those  things  which  are  dreadful  to  na- 
ture. 

But  certainly  the  fear  of  death  was  neither  the  only, 
nor  the  greatest  thing  that  troubled  our  Saviour's  spirit 
at  that  time.  He  had  another  sad  and  more  dreadful 
prospect,  the  heinous  and  innumerable  sins  of  mankind, 
whose  nature  he  had  taken,  and  whose  iniquities  he 
was  to  bear.  He  saw  the  whole  world  lying  in  wick- 
edness, and  ready  to  drop  into  eternal  flames;  he  saw 
the  anger  of  God  kindled,  and  his  hand  lifted  ap;  and 


ON    THE    PASSION.  183 

he  knew  that  the  stroke  would  light  upon  himself,  and 
that  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  to  be  upon  him. 

And,  doubtless,  it  added  not  a  little  unto  his  grief, 
that  he  knew  all  that  he  had  done,  and  all  that  he  was 
about  to  suffer,  would  be  slighted  and  despised  by  the 
greatest  part  of  mankind.  It  grieved  him  to  think, 
that  many  thousands,  who  were  to  be  called  by  his 
name,  would  prove  so  base  and  unthankful,  as  to  reject 
his  love,  and  baffle  his  passion,  and  make  a  by-word  of 
his  blood  and  wounds;  that  one  would  prefer  a  strumpet, 
another  his  cups,  a  third  his  gold  and  money,  to  the 
mercies  of  a  gracious  God,  and  the  unspeakable  kind- 
ness of  a  dying  Saviour. 

Briefly,  in  this  agony,  our  Saviour  did  struggle  with 
the  violent  passion  of  fear  and  grief;  which  racked  his 
joints,  and  stretched  his  sinews,  till,  in  that  cold  night, 
and  in  the  open  air,  a  sweat,  and  that  of  blood,  did  is- 
sue forth,  and  moisten  his  garments,  and  tumbled  down 
unto  the  ground.  Now  he  came  from  Bozra  with  his 
garments  dyed  red;  he  had  trodden  the  wine  press  alone, 
and  of  the  people  there  was  none  with  him.  And  now 
behold  and  see,  if  there  was  any  sorrow  like  unto  his 
sorrow. 

But  now  he  awaketh  his  drowsy  disciples,  and  calls 
them  to  rise  and  be  going ;  for  behold  he  is  at  hand  that 
betrays  him.  And  scarce  had  he  spoke  the  word,  when 
behold  the  traitor,  and  with  him  a  great  multitude  from 
the  chief  priests,  and  elders  of  the  people.  They  come 
out  as  against  a  thief  with  swords  and  staves,  for  to  take 
him.  That  monster  of  ingratitude  gives  them  the  sig- 
nal; and  with  a  horrid  impudence,  dares  approach  his 
infamous  and  sacrilegious  lips  to  that  sacred  and  vene- 
rable face ;  which  we  may  reckon  as  the  first  wound  he 
received  from  his  enemies.  O  what  an  indignity,  to  be 
kissed  by  a  traitor,  an  apostate,  an  en'emy  to  God,  pos- 
sessed by  the  devil,  and  who  was  to  be  lodged  in  hell 
ere  twenty-four  hours  expired.  And  O  the  insuperable 
meekness  of  our  blessed  Savieur,  who  suffers  the  indig- 
nity, and  checks  it  with  no  harsher  terms  than  this. 
Friend,  wherefore  art  thou  corae.^  Judas,  betrayeet  thou 


i64  ON    THE    PASSION". 

the  son  of  man  with  a  kiss?  Then  he  turneth  unto  the 
armed  bands,  and  said  unto  them,  Whom  seek  ye? 
They  answered  him,  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Jesus  saith 
tmto  them,  I  am  he.  The  meekness  of  this  answer 
astonished  the  soldiers,  and  the  power  that  accompanied 
it,  made  them  go  back  and  fall  to  the  ground.  And 
why  did  they  not  fall  into  hell?  The  wicked  enterprise 
they  were  presently  about  to  do  did  justly  deserve  it; 
and  how  easy  was  it  for  him  to  have  done  it?  But  his 
goodness  restrained  him;  he  meaned  them  no  harm,  but 
intended  this  fall  to  help  them  to  rise;  that  the  consid- 
eration of  it,  and  the  other  evidences  of  his  divinity, 
might  one  day  bring  them  to  a  sense  of  their  sins. 
Nor  will  he  any  further  employ  his  miraculous  power, 
but  only  in  the  cure  of  an  enemy,  whom  his  too  for- 
ward disciple  had  wounded.  But  this  doth  not  abate 
their  malice.  They  lay  hold  on  him,  and  drag  hira 
away  in  a  great  hurry  and  uproar,  through  that  city 
where  he  had  done  so  much  good,  and  into  which  he 
had  been  lately  received  with  joy  and  triumph,  and 
loud  acclamations:  Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord.  They  carry  him  from  Annas  to 
Caiaphas,  from  Caiaphas  to  Pilate,  from  Pilate  to  Her- 
od, from  Herod  to  Pilate  again ;  treating  him  with  all 
the  indignities,  all  the  instances  of  scorn  and  contempt 
that  their  malice  could  suggest  unto  them.  Now, 
though  our  extreme  impatience  of  ignominies  and  af- 
fronts, do  much  proceed  from  the  pride  and  haughtiness 
of  our  spirits;  yet  is  there  in  them  a  contrariety  even  to 
the  innocent  constitution  of  the  human  nature.  Shame 
and  disgrace  are  troublesome  to  all  ingenuous  spirits; 
so  that,  though  they  could  not  raise  an  immoderate  pas- 
sion in  our  blessed  Saviour,  yet  his  blessed  spirit  had  a 
great  abhorrence  and  detestation  of  that  base  and  un- 
worthy usage;  which  was  infinitely  heightened  by  the 
worth  and  excellency  of  the  person  who  suffered  it. 
What  loyal  heart  can  read  or  hear  of  the  indignities 
done  by  the  rude  soldiers  to  our  late  sovereign,  but 
with  regret  and  abhorrence:  But,  alas!  what  are  they, 
if  compared  with  those  that  were  put  upon  the  king  of 


ON    THK    PA39ION.  188 

heaven,  when  they  scoffed  and  reproached  him,  when 
ihey  smote  him  on  the  cheek,  and  bound  those  hands 
which  had  cured  so  many  diseases,  and  defiled  that 
sacred  face  with  spittle,  which  saints  and  angels  delight 
to  behold?  All  which  he  suffered  with  that  meekness 
which  the  Prophet  had  foretold:  He  gave  his  back  to 
the  smiters,  and  his  cheeks  to  them  that  plucked  off  the 
hair:  he  did  not  hide  his  face  from  shame  and  spitting. 
They  would  needs  be  ingenious  in  their  scoffings,  and 
mock  him  in  all  his  offices.  He  was  a  Prophet,  and 
they  desire  him  to  prophesy  who  it  was  that  did  smite 
him:  he  was  a  Priest,  and  they  bid  him  save  himself  as 
he  did  others:  he  was  a  King,  and  they  crown  him  with 
thorns,  and  aiTay  him  with  scarlet,  and  put  a  reed  in 
his  hand,  and,  in  scorn,  salute  him.  King  of  the  Jews. 
Add  unto  this  the  violence  done  unto  his  virgin  mod- 
esty, when  he  was  stripped  naked  in  the  view  of  the  rude 
multitude.  It  is  reported  of  some  virgin  martyrs,  that 
God,  pitying  their  grief  and  trouble  to  have  their  nakr>d- 
ness  discovered,  when  they  were  to  be  stripped  of  their 
clothes,  did  cover  them  with  a  veil  of  light,  and  send 
them  to  a  modest  and  desired  death.  But  the  holy  Je- 
sus, who  refused  no  shame,  endured  also  this  of  naked- 
ness, that  we  might  be  clothed  with  his  righteousness. 
But  though  it  pleased  their  malice  to  have  him  ex- 
posed to  all  indignities  imaginable;  yet  nothing  would 
satisfy  it  but  his  torment  and  his  death.  He  hath  al- 
ready had  trial  of  cruel  mockings,  and  now  he  must 
have  scourgings  too:  they  whip  him  with  violent  and 
unrelenting  hands,  tearing  his  tender  flesh,  and  making 
long  furrows  in  it.  And,  now,  behold  the  man!  behold 
him  in  that  sad  miserable  plight  wherein  Pilate  brought 
him  forth,  thinking  to  have  appeased  the  malice  of  the 
Jews!  his  head  pierced  with  briers,  his  face  blue  with 
strokes,  his  hands  bound,  that  he  could  not  so  much  as 
wipe  off  the  blood  which  trickled  down  his  eyes;  his 
whole  body  discoloured  with  the  marks  of  the  scourge! 
From  the  top  of  his  head,  to  the  sole  of  his  foot  there 
was  no  soundness  in  him.  Was  there  ever  any  sorrow 
like  unto  his  sorrow? 
16* 


186  ON    THE    PASSION. 

There  remaineth  yet  another  scene,  a  very  sad  and 
dismal  one.  When  nothing  could  prevail  with  the  Jews, 
Pilate  yieldeth,  and  delivereth  our  Saviour  to  their  hands. 
They  carry  him  away,  so  faint  and  weak  with  what  he 
had  already  endured,  that  he  could  not  bear  the  weight 
of  his  cross,  but  another  must  carry  it  for  him.  But  now 
they  nail  him  unto  it,  hang  him  up  between  two  thieves, 
as  the  most  notorious  ofl'ender  of  the  three.  It  cannot 
be  expressed  how  painful  this  kind  of  death  was.  The 
very  stretching  forth  of  the  arms  without  any  weight, 
can  hardly  be  endured  any  considerable  time:  but,  when 
the  weight  of  the  body  did  hang  upon  them,  and  there- 
by tear  the  wounds  that  were  made  in  the  hands;  when 
this  torment  was  continued,  till  pain  alone  had  overcome 
the  power  of  nature,  and  forced  the  soul  to  dislodge 
without  any  hurt  to  the  vital  parts,  scarce  any  could  be 
invented  more  dreadful  and  cruel;  to  say  nothing  of  the 
shame  that  attended  it,  being  only  destined  for  the  mean- 
est slaves,  and  the  greatest  offenders,  those  whom  the 
lowness  of  their  condition,  or  the  greatness  of  their 
crimes,  made  unworthy  of  any  respect.  In  this  sad  and 
painful  posture  did  our  Saviour  hang,  without  any  thing 
to  comfort  him.  The  holy  angels,  who  were  accustomed 
to  serve  him  upon  other  occasions,  do  now  disappear; 
not  one  of  them  to  strengthen  or  relieve  him.  As  for 
men,  miserable  comforters  are  the}'  all:  the  soldiers  scoff 
him;  those  that  pass  by  exult  over  him;  a  companion  of 
his  sufferings  adds  unto  them  by  his  reproaches:  his  dis- 
ciples had  forsaken  him;  one  of  them  had  betrayed  him, 
another  forsworn  him,  a  third  run  away  from  him  naked, 
that  he  might  not  be  apprehended  with  him.  Indeed 
some  devout  women  followed  him  out  of  the  city;  but 
their  compassion  did  so  little  ease  his  grief,  that  he  de- 
sired them  to  reserve  their  tears  for  the  calamities  that 
were  to  befall  themselves:  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep 
not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves,  and  for  your  chil- 
dren. He  beheld  the  two  persons  that  were  the  dear^ 
est  to  him  in  the  world,  his  mother,  and  his  friend,  sit- 
tmg  under  the  cross;  but  all  that  they  could  do  was  but 
Xo  lament  and  mourn;  and  this  but  redoubled  his  sorrow, 


ON   THE   PASSION.  187 

His  blessed  mother  was  bathed  m  tears;  and  felt  the  ef- 
fects of  old  Simeon's  prophecy,  that  a  sword  should 
pierce  through  her  soul.  And  the  beloved  disciple,  who 
was  wont  to  lie  in  h\s  bosom,  lay  still  very  near  his 
heart;  and  it  w^as  a  real  suffering  unto  him,  to  see  the 
anguish  and  sorrow  whereinto  his  sufferings  had  cast 
them.  Whither  then  could  he  look  for  comfort,  but 
unto  heaven?  To  whom  could  he  flee,  but  to  the  arms 
of  his  Father?  But  O  what  strange,  what  astonishing 
words  do  we  hear?  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me?  Wonder,  O  earth!  be  astonished,  O  ye 
heavens!  At  this,  men  and  angels  admire  and  stand 
amazed!  goodness  and  innocence  itself  forsaken  by  the 
author  and  fountain  of  goodness,  the  Son  of  God  desert- 
ed by  his  heavenly  Father!  Certainly  the  soul  of  our 
blessed  Saviour  was  still  united  to  the  divine  nature, 
and  was  still  as  dear  unto  his  Father  as  before ;  only  the 
joyful  sense  of  the  divine  love  was  suspended  for  a 
while;  the  faculties  of  his  soul  were  discomposed,  and  a 
veil,  as  it  were,  drawn  before  the  eyes  of  his  mind, 
which  intercepted  the  light  of  his  Father's  countenance; 
and  that  he  felt  not  those  refreshing  emanations,  which 
in  the  course  of  his  life  the  Deity  conveyed  unto  him. 
And,  in  that  sad  moment,  his  mind  seems  to  have  been 
so  intent  upon  his  sufferings,  that  he  was  diverted  from 
the  actual  consideration  of  that  glory  which  he  pur- 
chased by  them.  Now,  to  be  thus  suspended  from  the 
perfect  vision  of  God,  to  be  divorced,  as  it  were,  from 
himself,  and  to  lose  the  sense  of  those  inward  comforts 
which  were  wont  to  sustaui  him  in  all  his  adversities, 
how  cutting  must  it  needs  be  to  his  soul,  so  pure  and 
holy,  and  which  had  so  high  a  value  for  the  divine  love? 
Consider  then,  and  see,  if  ever  there  was  any  sorrow 
like  unto  this  sorrow. 

Now  it  is  finished,  the  sharp  conflict  is  at  a  close;  one 
cry  more,  and  the  blessed  Jesus  bowed  down  his  head, 
and  yielded  up  the  ghost.  No  wonder  then  if  the  pow- 
ers of  heaven  and  earth  be  moved.  The  earth  trem- 
bleth  and  shaketh,  the  rocks  rent,  the  graves  are  opened, 
the  vail  of  the  temple  was  rent  in  two,  the  sun  himself 


188  ON   THE   PAS9I0N. 

shrunk  in  his  beams,  and  darkness  covered  ths  face  of 
the  earth;  which  a  learned  man  of  Greece  is  said  to  have 
observed  at  that  time,  and  from  thence  to  have  conclud- 
ed. That  either  the  God  of  nature  suffered  violence,  or 
that  the  frame  of  the  world  was  about  to  dissolve:  Aut 
Deus  naturcB patitur,  aut  machina  mundi  solvitur. 
Thus  we  have  given  you  some  njde  imperfect  hints  of 
his  great  and  unspeakable  sufferings.  But  O  how  little 
of  them  do  we  understand  to  very  good  purpose!  It  was 
for  this  reason  the  ancient  fathers  of  the  Greek  church  in 
their  liturgy,  after  they  have  recounted  all  the  particular 
pains  as  they  are  set  down  in  his  passion,  and  by  all  and 
every  one  of  them  called  for  mercy,  do  after  all  shut  up 
with  this  supplication:  By  thine  unknown  sorrows  and 
sufferings,  felt  by  thee,  but  not  distinctly  known  by  us, 
have  mercy  upon  us  and  save  us. 

II.  We  proceed,  in  the  next  place,  to  consider  the 
interest  that  we  have  in  the  suffering  of  our  Saviour:  Is 
it  nothing  to  you?  Have  you  no  interest  nor  concern- 
ment at  all  in  them!  Much,  certainly,  every  way.  We 
were  the  occasion  of  his  sufferings,  and  the  benefits  of 
them  redound  unto  us.  When  we  see  a  person  under- 
go any  sad  and  grievous  punishment,  we  cannot  choose 
but  inquire  into  the  grounds  and  occasions  of  their  suf- 
ferings; and  the  rather  if  they  have  the  reputation  of  in- 
nocence and  integrity.  And  here  not  only  the  most  in- 
nocent, but  the  most  excellent  person  that  ever  was  in 
the  world,  undergoes  those  dreadful  sufferings  which  we 
mentioned  before;  who  never  had  done  any  sin  at  all, 
neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth,  so  that  the  judge 
who  condemned  him,  behoved  first  to  condemn  himself 
by  a  solemn  acknowledgement  of  his  innocence,  He 
had  gone  up  and  down  all  his  days  doing  good  unto 
men,  and  scattering  blessings  where  he  came;  healing 
the  sick,  restoring  sight  to  the  blind,  and  making  the 
lame  to  walk,  the  dumb  to  speak,  and  the  deaf  to  hear, 
feeding  the  hungry,  and  instructing  all  that  would 
vouchsafe  to  hear  him.  For  which  of  all  these  good 
works  is  he  punished?  Death  is  the  wages  of  sin;  how 
cornea  he  to  die  that  knew  no  sin?  The  Prophet  Isaiah 


ON   THE    PASSION.  189 

gives  us  the  answer:  Surely,  he  hath  borne  our  griefs, 
and  carried  our  sorrows:  yet  we  did  esteem  him  strick- 
en, smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted.  But  he  was  wound- 
ed for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniqui- 
ties: the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and 
by  his  stripes  we  are  healed.  All  we  like  sheep  have 
gone  astray:  we  have  turned  every  one  to  his  own  way, 
and  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all. 
Messiah  was  cut  off,  but  not  for  himself:  He  bare  our  sins 
in  his  own  body  on  the  tree;  and  gave  his  life  a  ransom 
for  many.  The  race  of  mankind  by  their  apostasy  from 
God,  were  become  liable  to  his  wrath,  and  all  the 
dreadful  effects  of  his  vengeance:  the  eternal  Son  of 
God,  the  Wisdom  of  the  Father,  whose  delights  were 
always  with  the  sons  of  men,  resolveth  to  make  up  the 
breach,  and  restore  us  again  unto  his  Father's  love:  but 
first  he  must  repair  the  honour  of  God,  and  secure  the 
authority  of  the  divine  law;  which  could  not  be  done, 
but  by  some  signal  evidence  of  God's  displeasure 
against  sin,  and  some  valuable  compensation  of  the  pun- 
ishment which  had  been  denounced  against  it:  and  there- 
fore himself  was  pleased  to  take  our  nature  upon  him, 
appear  in  the  similitude  of  sinful  flesh,  to  lead  a  miser- 
able and  afflicted  life  in  the  world,  and  at  last  to  offer 
it  up  as  a  propitiation  for  us;  that  mercy  and  truth  might 
meet  together,  and  righteousness  and  peace  kiss  each 
other;  and  that  God  might  at  once  be  just,  and  also  the 
justifier  of  him  that  believeth  in  Jesus.  Thus  then  the 
blessed  Jesus  endured  all  these  sufTerings  for  us  and  for 
our  sins.  In  vain  do  we  exclaim  against  the  trea- 
son of  Judas,  the  malice  of  the  Jews,  the  injustice  of 
Pilate?  we  have  ourselves  and  our  iniquities  to  blame: 
our  covetousness  and  ambition  exposed  him  to  poverty 
and  contempt,  our  excess  and  intemperance  made  hind 
hunger  and  thirst,  our  levity  and  foolish  mirth  were  the 
occasion  of  the  anguish  and  bitterness  of  his  soul;  our 
sensual  and  sinful  pleasures  were  the  occasion  of  all  the 
pains  and  tortures  which  he  endured.  And  is  it  nothing 
unto  us?  shall  we  think  ourselves  unconcerned  in  these 
sad  effects,  whereof  we  were  the  unhappy  cause? 


190  ON   THE   PASSION. 

Again,  we  are  concerned  in  our  Saviour's  sufferings, 
as  the  benefits  of  them  redound  unto  us.  By  his  stripes 
we  are  healed.  We  have  redemption  through  his 
blood,  even  the  forgiveness  of  our  sins:  God  was  in 
Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  imputing 
their  trespasses  unto  them.  We  have  access  unto  the 
throne  of  God,  and  boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest 
by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  by  a  new  and  living  way  which 
he  hath  consecrated  for  us,  through  the  vail,  that  is  to 
say,  his  flesh.  But  this  is  not  all:  God  hath  not  set  him 
forth  as  a  propitiation  through  faith  in  his  blood,  for  the 
remission  of  sins  that  are  past;  but  doth  also,  for  his 
sake,  bestow  on  us  that  grace,  whereby  we  may  be  en- 
abled to  serve  him  in  holiness  and  righteousness  all  the 
days  of  our  lives.  An  amnesty;  or  act  of  oblivion  for 
past  offences,  would  never  have  served  the  turn;  we 
should  presently  have  run  ourselves  upon  another  score: 
nay,  sin  itself  had  been  enough  to  make  us  miserable, 
though  no  other  punishment  had  been  inflicted  upon  us: 
and  therefore  he  does  not  only  cover  our  sins,  but  cures 
them;  he  forgives  all  our  iniquities,  and  healeth  all  our 
diseases:  as  we  are  justified  by  his  sufferings,  so  we  are 
sanctified  too  through  the  offering  of  the  body  of  Jesus 
Christ  once  for  all.  In  a  word,  by  the  merits  of  our 
Saviour  we  are  both  reconciled  unto  God,  and  made 
partakers  of  the  divine  nature;  we  are  both  delivered 
from  everlasting  darkness,  and  made  m.eet  for  the  inher- 
itance of  the  saints  in  light.  And  now  is  it  nothing  to 
us?  Can  we  think  ourselves  unconcerned  in  these  suf- 
ferings, from  which  we  reap  so  great  so  unspeakable 
advantages? 

III.  Having  spoken  of  the  greatnjess  of  our  Saviour's 
sufferings,  and  the  interest  which  we  have  in  them,  we 
think  we  should  need  to  say  little  of  the  third  particular 
which  we  proposed:  you  cannot  but  be  convinced,  that 
we  ought  to  regard  and  consider  them.  Were  it  nothing 
to  us,  the  very  strangeness  of  the  thing  would  deserve 
notice.  The  holy  angels  desire  to  pry  into  this  myste- 
ry; they  will  contemplate  and  admire  it  to  all  eternity. 
And  surely  we  are  far  more  nearly  concerned.     What 


ON   THE   PASSION  191 

an  unaccountable  dulness  and  negligence  is  it  then,  for 
men  to  go  up  and  down  the  world  amusing  themselves 
with  every  trifle;  hearing  and  telling  of  news  about  mat- 
ters of  the  smallest  importance,  and  never  to  consider  the 
stupendous  sufferings  of  their  dying  Saviour!  They  walk 
to  and  fro,  they  come  and  pass,  and  scarce  vouchsafe  to 
look  upon  him:  or,  if  they  chance  to  cast  their  eyes  that 
way,  it  is  a  very  short  and  overly  view;  they  presently 
turn  them  away.  And  this  occasions  the  complaint  of 
the  text,  Is  it  nothing  to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by?  But 
sure  I  am  we  can  nowhere  behold  an  object  so  worthy 
of  our  most  serious  and  solemn  regards.  The  whole 
world  does  not  afford  so  useful  and  edifying  a  prospect. 
Here  it  is  that  we  may  best  learn  the  horrid  and  hei- 
nous nature  of  sin,  which  could  not  be  pardoned  at  a 
smaller  rate.  Here  it  is  that  we  may  discover  most  of 
the  divine  bounty  and  goodness  to  mankind,  and  the 
inexpressible  love  of  our  blessed  Saviour  and  Redeemer'; 
which  are  the  most  important  lessons  that  we  can  learn. 
This  made  the  blessed  Apostle  to  determine  to  know 
nothing  but  Christ,  and  him  crucified,  to  count  all  things 
but  loss,  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ 
Jesus  his  Lord.  Let  me  therefore  exhort  you  to  fix  the 
eyes  of  your  mind,  and  call  up  your  most  serious  atten- 
tion; reach  hither  the  hand  of  your  faith,  and  thrust  it 
into  the  hole  of  your  Saviour's  side;  put  your  fingers  ia- 
to  the  print  of  the  nails;  lay  to  heart  all  the  passages  of 
his  lamentable  story ;  and  this  cannot  choose  but  melt 
your  hearts,  unless  they  be  harder  than  the  rocks,  and 
deafer  than  the  bodies  in  the  grave.  Let  us  fix  our  eyes, 
I  say,  on  this  astonishing  object,  till  our  eyes  affect  our 
heart,  that  while  we  are  musing,  the  fire  may  burn. 
Let  us  mourn  for  those  sins  wherewith  we  have  cruci^ 
fied  the  Lord  of  glory,  and  be  grieved  that  ever  we 
should  have  put  him  to  so  much  anguish  and  pain;  and 
let  us  vow  a  perpetual  enmity  against  our  lusts  and  cor- 
rupt affections,  which  would  crucify  him  afresh,  and 
put  him  unto  open  shame.  Let  us  consider  and  admire 
the  wonderful  love  of  our  dying  Saviour,  that  our  souls 
may  be  kindled  witli  reciprocal  flames,  wherein  we  maj^ 


192  A  PREPARATION  FOR  THE 

offer  np  ourselves  as  a  living  and  acceptable  sacrifice  un- 
to him;  that  thus,  Christ  dwelling  in  our  hearts  by  faith, 
we  may  be  rooted  and  grounded  in  love;  comprehend- 
ing with  all  saints  what  is  the  breadth,  and  length,  and 
height;  and  knowing  the  love  of  Christ  which  passeth 
knowledge,  that  so  we  may  be  filled  with  all  the  fulness 
of  God.  Such  meditations  and  exercises  as  these  will 
purify  and  raise  our  souls,  and  best  dispose  us  for  ap- 
proaching to  the  table  of  the  Lord,  And  the  Lord  pour 
out  upon  us  the  spirit  of  grace  and  supplication,  that  we 
may  look  upon  him  whom"  we  have  pierced,  and  mourn 
for  him  as  one  mourneth  for  his  only  son,  and  be  in  bitter- 
ness for  him  as  one  that  is  in  bitterness  for  his  first-born. 


A  PREPARATION  FOR  THE  HOLY  SACRAMENT 


JOSH.  III.  5. 

Sanctify  yourselves:  for  to-morrow  the  Lord  will 
do  wonders  among  you. 
When  God  is  to  make  any  signal  discovery  and 
^manifestation  of  himself  to  his  people,  he  calleth  thera 
to  solemn  preparation,  that  they  may  be  in  a  fit  posture 
to  attend  and  receive  it.  Three  eminent  instances 
whereof  w' e  meet  with  in  the  travels  of  his  ancient  peo- 
ple of  Israel.  The  first  is  in  Exodus  xix.  10,  II.  where, 
being  to  descend  upon  Sinai  to  promulgate  a  law,  and 
enter  into  a  covenant  with  them,  the  Lord  said  unto 
JMoses,  Go  unto  the  people,  and  sanctify  them  to-day 
and  to-morrow,  and  let  them  wash  their  clofhes,  and  be 
ready  against  the  third  day:  for  the  third  day  the  Lord 
will  come  down  in  the  sight  of  all  the  people.  Thus 
also,  when  he  was  at  once  to  satisfy  and  punish  the  in- 
ordinate appetite  of  that  people  who  loathed  the  manna, 
and  lusted  after  flesh,  by  bringing  innumerable  quails 
from  the  sea,  and  causing  them  to  fall  about  their  camp, 


HOLY   SACRAMENT.  193 

he  commanded  Moses  to  say  imto  the  people,  Sanctify 
yourselves  against  to-morrow,  and  ye  shall  eat  flesh. 
A  third  instance  is  that  of  the  text.  The  Lord  had 
brought  his  people  to  the  borders  of  Canaan,  and  \va3 
now  to  give  them  the  seisin  and  possession  of  that  prom- 
ised land:  he  was  to  divide  the  waters  of  Jordan  before 
them:  and  thereby  both  facilitate  their  passage,  and  as- 
sure their  possession.  Hereby,  said  Joshua,  ye  shall 
know  that  the  living  God  is  among  you,  and  that  he  will 
without  fail  drive  out  from  before  you  the  Canaanites, 
and  the  liittites,  and  Ilivites,  and  the  Perizzites,  and 
the  Girgashites,  and  the  Amorites  and  the  Jebusites. 
Behold,  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  the  Lord  of  all  the 
earth,  passeth  over  before  you  into  Jordan.  And  it  shall 
come  to  pass,  as  soon  as  the  soles  of  the  feet  of  the 
priests  that  bear  the  ark  of  the  Lord,  the  Lord  of  all  the 
earth,  shall  rest  in  the  waters  of  Jordan,  that  the  waters 
of  Jordan  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  waters  that  come 
down  from  above;  and  they  shall  stand  upon  an  heap. 
IVow,  to  dispose  them  for  so  great  a  mercy,  Joshua 
gives  them  this  advertisement  in  the  text.  Sanctify  your- 
selves: for  to-morrow  the  Lord  will  do  wonders  among 

you. 

And  sure  this  same  advertisement  must  needs  be  very 
seasonable  to  us,  who  are  expecting  that  God  will  man- 
ifest himself  to-morrow  in  this  phice,  in  a  way  no  less 
glorio-us,  and  far  more  coinfortable  and  advantageous, 
than  any  of  those  we  have  mentioned  unto  you.  We 
hope  he  shall  descend  from  the  habitation  of  his  glory, 
that  he  will  rend  the  heavens,  and  come  down  into  this 
house,  not  with  fire,  and  blackness,  and  darkness,  and 
tempest,  and  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  the  voice  of 
words,  which  they  that  heard,  entreated  that  the  word 
should  not  be  spo-I^eri  unto  them  any  more;  because  they 
could  not  endure  that  which  was  commanded:  but  with 
the  gentle  and  enlivening  flames  of  love,  with  the  re- 
fieshmg  beams  of  divine  light,  with  the  still  and  quiet 
wJiisper  of  his  Holy  Spirit;  which  are  only  heard  in  calm 
and  silent  souls.  He  is  coming  to  proclaim  another  law, 
a  law  of  liberty  and  love;  to  enter  into  a  new  andbet- 
17 


194  A  PREPARATION  FOR  THE 

ter  covenant  with  us,  not  according  to  that  covenant 
which  he  made  with  the  house  of  Israel,  in  the  day  when 
he  took  them  by  the  hand  to  lead  them  out  of  Egypt: 
but  this  is  the  covenant  he  maketh  with  us,  that  he  will 
put  his  laws  into  our  minds,-  and  write  them  in  our 
hearts:  and  he  will  be  to  us  a  God,  and  we  shall  be 
to  him  a  people;  that  he  will  be  merciful  to  our  un- 
righteousness, and  remember  our  iniquities  no  more. 

To-morrow  the  Lord  will  give  us  flesh  to  eat;  not  the 
flesh  of  quails  and  feathered  fowls,  to  sustain  this  crazy 
and  decaying  frame;  but  the  flesh  and  blood  of  the  Son 
of  man;  that  flesh  which  is  meat  indeed,  and  that  blood 
which  is  drink  indeed;  which  giveth  life  and  everlasting 
happiness  to  the  soul,  and  consigneth  these  mortal  bodies 
to  a  blessed  resunection:  for  whoso  eateth  my  flesh,  and 
drinketh  my  blood,  (saith  our  Saviour)  hath  eternal  life, 
and  I  will  raise  him  up  at  the  last  day. 

To-morrow  the  Lord  will  open  a  passage  for  his  peo- 
ple towards  the  heavenly  Canaan,  place  them,  as  it  were, 
in  the  confines  of  that  promised  land,  in  the  suburbs  of 
happiness  and  glory:  at  least  he  will  show  them  a  token 
for  good,  and  sign  a  right  and  security  unto  it.  And, 
though  floods  of  sin  and  sorrow  were  ready  to  over^ 
whelm  their  souls,  he  will  restrain  and  divert  them: 
Surely  in  the  floods  of  great  waters  they  shall  not  comer 
nigh  unto  them.  What  fitter  terms  could  we  therefore 
choose  to  bespeak  you  in,  than  those  of  this  holy  man,. 
Sanctify  yourselves,  for  to-morrow,  &c. 

The  words  contain  an  exhortation,  and  a  reason  enfor- 
cing it.-  !»  applying  them  to  the  present  occasion,  we 
shall  invert  the  order,  and  handle  the  latter  part  of  the 
text  first,  because  of  the  influence  it  hath  on  the  former. 
We  shall  first  tell  you  what  those  wonders  are  which  the 
Lord  is  to  do  among  us  to-morrow;  the  consideration- 
of  them  being  of  great  use,  both  to  excite  us  to  sanctify 
and  prepare  ourselves,  and  also  to  instruct  and  direct  u.«r 
in  it. 

L  What  then  are  those  wonders  we  expect  to  see? 
A  little  bread  broken  and  divided  among  us,  a  little  wine 
poured  forth  and  di-unk.     Is  there  any  thing  to  surprise 


HOLY    SACRAMENT.  195 

and  amaze  us  here?  What  better  is  this  tlian  our  ordi- 
nary entertainment  at  home?  Are  not  Abana  and  Phar- 
par,  rivers  of  Damascus,  better  than  all  the  waters  of 
Israel?  Such  may  be  the  thoughts  of  profane  and  igno- 
rant fools;  for  the  outside  of  this  ordinance  is  very  poor 
and  mean,  hath  nothing  in  it  that  may  dazzle  or  delight 
the  vulgar  eye,  that  may  please  or  affect  a  carnal  mind: 
but  those  whose  eyes  are  opened  to  right  apprehensions 
of  spiritual  and  divine  things,  can  easily  see  through  this 
coarse  and  contemptible  vail,  and  discern  astonishing 
wonders  in  this  ordinance,  wonders  of  power,  and  wis- 
dom, and  love. 

If  we  consider  what  is  represented  to  us  in  this  sa- 
crament, we  have  therein  occasion  to  behold  the  most 
wonderful  and  astonishing  spectacle  that  ever  was  seen 
in  this  lower  world;  the  ©nly  begotten  Son  of  God  suf- 
fering for  the  sins  of  the  world;  the  Lord  of  glory  hanging 
between  two  thieves:  for  in  this  ordinance  Jesus  Christ  is 
evidently  set  forth  as  crucified  before  our  eyes.  We 
may  read  and  hear  of  it  at  other  times;  but  this  is  a  more 
clear  and  solemn  representation  of  it:  our  dying  Lord 
commanded  us  to  do  it  in  remembrance  of  him.  Here 
our  thoughts  are  more  fixed,  and  our  meditations  higher 
raised ;  we  get  a  nearer  and  more  advantageous  prospect. 
And  our  faith  comes  not  only  by  the  ear;  our  senses 
contribute  unto  it  that  we  may  say  in  some  sense,  with 
the  beloved  disciple,  that  we  have  not  only  heard,  but 
have  seen  with  our  eyes,  we  have  looked  upon  it,  and 
our  hands  have  handled  the  word  of  life.  It  is  true, 
there  might  have  been  contrived  a  more  sensible  resem- 
blance, and  tragical  representation  of  the  death  of  Christ. 
That  spectacle  represented  upon  the  scene,  would  per- 
haps affect  our  senses  and  fancy  more,  and  might  sooner 
draw  tears  from  our  eyes,  and  occasion  some  warm  and 
affectionate  passion.  But  it  is  a  mean  and  low  devotion 
that  is  seated  in  the  inferior  faculties  of  the  soul .  which 
outward  objects  do  excite  by  their  natural  strength, 
without  the  exercise  of  the  soul's  considering  and  med- 
itating powers.     And  therefore  (as  one  hath  well  observ- 


186  ON    THE    PASSION. 

There  remaineth  yet  another  scene,  a  very  gad  and 
dismal  one.  When  nothing  could  prevail  with  the  Jews, 
Pilate  yieldeth,  and  delivereth  our  Saviour  to  their  hands. 
They  carry  him  away,  so  faint  and  weak  with  what  he 
had  already  endured,  that  he  could  not  bear  the  weight 
of  his  cross,  but  another  must  carry  it  for  him.  But  now 
they  nail  him  unto  it,  hang  him  up  between  two  thieves, 
as  the  most  notorious  offender  of  the  three.  It  cannot 
be  expressed  how  painful  this  kind  of  death  was.  The 
very  stretching  forth  of  the  arms  without  any  weight, 
can  hardly  be  endured  any  considerable  time:  but,  when 
the  weight  of  the  body  did  hang  upon  them,  and  there- 
by tear  the  wounds  that  were  made  in  the  hands;  when 
this  torment  was  continued,  till  pain  alone  had  overcome 
the  power  of  nature,  and  forced  the  soul  to  dislodge 
without  any  hurt  to  the  vital  parts,  scarce  any  could  be 
invented  more  dreadful  and  cruel ;  to  say  nothing  of  the 
shame  that  attended  it,  being  only  destined  for  the  mean- 
est slaves,  and  the  greatest  offenders,  those  whom  the 
lowness  of  their  condition,  or  the  greatness  of  their 
crimes,  made  unworthy  of  any  respect.  In  this  sad  and 
painful  posture  did  our  Saviour  hang,  without  any  thing 
to  comfort  him.  The  holy  angels,  who  were  accustomed 
to  serve  him  upon  other  occasions,  do  now  disappear; 
pot  one  of  them  to  strengthen  or  relieve  him.  As  for 
men,  miserable  comforters  are  they  all:  the  soldiers  scoff 
him;  those  that  pass  by  exult  over  him;  a  companion  of 
his  sufferings  adds  unto  them  by  his  reproaches:  his  dis- 
ciples had  forsaken  him;  one  of  them  had  betrayed  him, 
another  forsworn  him,  a  third  run  away  from  him  naked, 
that  he  might  not  be  apprehended  with  him.  Indeed 
some  devout  women  followed  him  out  of  the  city;  but 
their  compassion  did  so  little  ease  his  grief,  that  he  de- 
sired them  to  reserve  their  tears  for  the  calamities  that 
were  to  befall  themselves:  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep 
not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves,  and  for  your  chil- 
dren. He  beheld  the  two  persons  that  were  the  dear- 
est to  him  in  the  world,  his  mother,  and  his  friend,  sit- 
ting under  the  cross;  but  all  that  they  could  do  was  but 
^0  lament  and  mourn ;  and  this  but  redoubled  his  sorrow* 


ON   THE   PASSION.  187 

His  blessed  mother  was  bathed  in  tears;  and  felt  the  ef- 
fects of  old  Simeon's  prophecy,  that  a  sword  should 
pierce  through  her  soul.  And  the  beloved  disciple,  who 
was  wont  to  lie  in  his  bosom,  lay  still  very  near  his 
heart;  and  it  was  a  real  suffering  unto  him,  to  see  the 
anguish  and  sorrow  whereinto  his  sufferings  had  cast 
them.  Whither  then  could  he  look  for  comfort,  but 
unto  heaven?  To  whom  could  he  flee,  but  to  the  arms 
of  his  Father?  But  O  what  strange,  what  astonishing 
words  do  we  hear?  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me?  Wonder,  O  earth!  be  astonished,  O  ye 
heavens!  At  this,  men  and  angels  admire  and  stand 
amazed!  goodness  and  innocence  itself  forsaken  by  the 
author  and  fountain  of  goodness,  the  Son  of  God  desert- 
ed by  his  heavenly  Father!  Certainly  the  soul  of  our 
blessed  Saviour  was  still  united  to  the  divine  nature, 
and  was  still  as  dear  unto  his  Father  as  before ;  only  the 
joyful  sense  of  the  divine  love  was  suspended  for  a 
while;  the  faculties  of  his  soul  were  discomposed,  and  a 
veil,  as  it  were,  drawn  before  the  eyes  of  his  mind, 
which  intercepted  the  light  of  his  Father's  countenance; 
and  that  he  felt  not  those  refresjiing  emanations,  which 
in  the  course  of  his  life  the  Deity  conveyed  unto  him. 
And,  in  that  sad  moment,  his  mind  seems  to  have  been 
so  intent  upon  his  sufferings,  that  he  was  diverted  from 
the  actual  consideration  of  that  glory  which  he  pur- 
chased by  them.  Now,  to  be  thus  suspended  from  the 
perfect  vision  of  God,  to  be  divorced,  as  it  were,  from 
himself,  and  to  lose  the  sense  of  those  inward  comforts 
which  were  wont  to  sustain  him  in  all  his  adversities, 
how  cutting  must  it  needs  be  to  his  soul,  so  pure  and 
holy,  and  which  had  so  high  a  value  for  the  divine  love? 
Consider  then,  and  see,  if  ever  there  was  any  sorrow 
like  unto  this  sorrow. 

Now  it  is  finished,  the  sharp  conflict  is  at  a  close;  one 
cry  more,  and  the  blessed  Jesus  bowed  down  his  head, 
and  yielded  up  the  ghost.  No  wonder  then  if  the  pow- 
ers of  heaven  and  earth  be  moved.  The  earth  trem- 
bleth  and  shaketh,  the  rocks  rent,  the  graves  are  opened, 
the  vail  of  the  temple  was  rent  in  two,  the  sun  himself 


198  A    PREPARATION,    kc. 

performed,  by  the  body  and  blood  of  our  Saviour,  than 
those  which  were  done  by  the  touch  of  his  sacred  body, 
while  he  lived  here  among  men.  I  shall  conclude  this 
point  in  the  words  of  J-^t.  Chrysostom,  only  desiring 
they  may  be  understood  according  to  what  hath  been 
already  said,  making  some  allowance  for  the  rhetorical 
and  hyperbolic  style,  Ot«v  /cT^c  tov  kv^iov  TsSt/^sviv, 
&c.  "When  thou  dost  behold  the  Lord  of  glory  offer- 
ed up,  and  the  priest  performing  the  sacrifice,  and  the 
people  round  about  dyed  and  made  red  with  that  pre- 
cious blood,  where,  I  pray  thee,  dost  thou  conceive 
thyself  to  be?  Canst  thou  think  thou  art  yet  upon 
earth,  and  conversing  amongst  mortal  creatures;  or  art 
thou  not  rather  on  a  sadden  transported  into  heaven? 
Dost  thou  not  lose  all  thoughts  of  the  body,  and  with  a 
pure  mind,  and  naked  soul,  behold  the  things  that  are 
done  above?"  O  the  wonderful  mercy  and  goodness 
of  God!  He  who  sitteth  v.ith  the  Father  above,  is  at 
the  same  time  present  here  below,  and  gives  himself  to 
all  who  will  receive  and  embrace  him.  Compare  this, 
if  you  will,  with  another  miracle.  Imagine  you  see 
the  great  Elias  with  an  infinite  number  of  people  about 
him,  the  sacrifice  laid  upon  the  stones,  and  all  the  rest 
quiet  and  silent,  while  the  prophet  poureth  forth  his 
prayers,  then  tlie  fire  coming  down  on  a  sudden  from 
heaven,  and  consuming  the  sacrifice.  Tnily  these 
things  are  strange,  and  full  of  wonder:  but  yet  are  far 
inferior  to  our  sacred  and  tremendous  mysteries;  for  here 
the  priest  doth  not  bring  fire,  but  the  Holy  Ghost:  he 
prayeth  not  that  a  flame  may  descend  from  heaven  to 
consume  the  holy  things  before  him,  but  that  the  divine 
grace,  influencing  the  sacrifice,  may  thereby  inflame  the 
hearts  and  souls  of  all  the  people,  and  render  them  more 
pure  than  silver  tried  in  the  fire.  Doubtless,  when  these 
sacred  and  venerable  mysteries  are  performing,  the  holy 
angels  do  stand  by,  and  the  place  is  full  of  blessed  and 
glorious  spirits,  who  delight  to  look  and  pry  into  them; 
and  all  the  orders  of  the  heavenly  host  shout,  and  raise 
their  voices  together. 

[  The  rest  is  wanting.  ] 


THE    MINISTERIAL    FUNCTION.  199 


OF  THE   IMPORTAXCE    AND    DIFFICULTY    OF    THE 
MINISTERIAL    FUNCTION. 

[  Preached  before  the  Synod  of  Aberdeen.  ] 


2  COR.  IT.  16. 

Who  is  sxifficient  for  these  things! 

Reverend  and  dearly  beloved  men,  brethren,  and 
fathers,  It  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  that  peace  and 
tranquillity  wherewith  Almighty  God  is  pleased  to  bless 
this  poor  church,  that  the  officers  of  it  have  liberty  of 
assembling  together  on  tliese  occasions,  for  mutual  as- 
sistance and  counsel  in  the  exercise  of  their  holy  func- 
tion. And,  indeed,  if  there  were  no  matter  of  public 
deliberation,  yet  ought  we  gladly  to  embrace  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  one  another's  faces,  not  only  that  we  may 
maintam  and  express  a  brotherly  correspondence  and 
allection,  but  also  that  we  may  animate  and  excite  one 
another  unto  greater  measures  of  diligence  and  zeal;  as 
coals,  being  gathered  together,  do  mutually  receive  and 
propagate  some  new  degrees  of  vigour  and  heat.  This 
I  have  always  looked  upon  as  none  of  the  meanest  ad- 
vantages of  these  synodical  meetings;  and  shall  think 
myself  very  happy,  if  my  poor  endeavours,  in  the  per- 
formance of  this  present  duty,  may,  by  the  divine  bles- 
sing, contribute  any  thing  towards  this  excellent  and 
desirable  purpose.  To  this  end,  I  liave  made  choice  of 
a  text  which  I  hope  may  aflbrd  us  some  useful  medita- 
tions, for  stirring  up  and  awakening  in  onr  souls  a  deep- 
er sense  of  those  great  engagements  under  which  we 
lie. 

The  blessed  Apostle,  in  the  former  verse,  and  begin- 
ning of  this,  has  been  speaking  of  the  different  success 
thegospel  did  meet  with  among  those  to  whom  it  was 
preached;  that  it  was  not  like  those  weak  and  harmless 


200  IMPORTANCE    AND    DIFFlCtTLTT    OP 

medicines,  which,  if  they  do  no  good,  are  sure  to  do 
no  hurt;  but  like  some  pe^-fumes  which  are  comfortable 
and  strengthening  to  the  wholesome,  but  troublesome 
and  noxious  to  the  wealv;so  doth  it  prove  a  vital  savour 
to  those  who  receive  and  obey  it,  but  a  most  deadly 
poison  to  all  who  reject  and  despise  it:  For  we  are  unto 
God  a  sweet  savour  of  Christ,  to  them  that  are  saved, 
and  in  them  that  perish;  to  the  one  we  are  a  savour  of 
death  unto  death,  and  to  the  other  a  savour  of  life  unto 
life.  And  then  he  takes  occasion  to  consider  what  a 
great  matter  it  is  to  be  employed  in  those  administrations 
wherein  the  happiness  and  misery  of  mankind  is  so 
nearly  concerned,  K*t  tic  ^r/ioc  tslvtii,  &c. ;  and  who 
is  sufficient  for  these  things? 

We  shall  not  detain  you  with  an  explication  of  the 
words.  Two  things,  I  conceive,  are  implied  in  them: 
1.  The  importance;  2.  The  ditEculty  of  the  Ministerial 
function.  For  if  a  business  be  of  small  concern,  it  is 
little  matter  who  have  the  management  of  it;  there  is  no 
great  harm  done  if  it  miscarry;  any  body  is  sufficient  for 
that  thing.  On  the  other  hand,  let  the  matter  be  never 
so  weighty,  if  there  be  no  difficulty  in  it,  there  needs  no 
extraordinary  endowments  in  those  to  whom  it  is  com- 
mitted: common  prudence  and  a  little  care  will  suiffice; 
there  is  no  likelihood  that  it  can  miscarry.  But  the 
work  of  the  ministry  is  at  once  so  important  and  so  dif- 
ficult— of  so  great  consequence  and  so  hard  to  be  per- 
formed, that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  reason  for  an  em- 
phatic interrogation,  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things? 

I.  First,  Let  us  fix  our  thoughts  awhile  on  the  weight 
and  importance  of  the  ministry,  and  we  shall  find  that 
it  is  a  greater  burden  lying  on  our  shoulders,  than  if  the 
greatest  affairs  of  this  world  were  devolved  upon  us,  and 
we  did  hold  up  the  pillars  of  the  earth.  This  will  ap- 
pear, whether  we  consider  the  relation  vre  stanrd  in  to 
the  Almighty  God,  or  the  charge  of  the  flocks  we  have 
committed  to  us. 

To  begin  with  the  first.  That  infinite  Majesty  which 
created,  and  doth  continually  uphold  the  earth,  and  all 
things  in  it,  as  the  just  owner  and  lord  of  the  whole  ere* 


THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION.  2?1 

ation,  (for  all  are  his  servants,  and  must  obey  his  will,) 
is  yet  pleased  to  claim  a  special  property  in  some  things 
which  he  chooseth  for  himself,  and  employeth  for  pe- 
culiar designs:  Nevertheless  of  old  did  he  choose  a  house 
for  himself,  and  a  place  to  be  ca-lled  by  his  i^ame.  At 
Salem  was  his  tabernacle,  and  his  dwelling-place  in 
Zion.  The  Lord  loved  the  gates  of  Ziou  more  than  all 
the  dwellings  of  Jacob.  And  the  church,  in  a.!l  ages, 
hath  thouglvt  it  fit  to  separate  some  places  from  vulgar 
and  common  use,  and  to  appropriate  them  to  the  service 
of  God.  Again,  Though  all  times  and  seasons  do  belong 
unto  God,  yet  hath  he  set  apart  a  day  for  his  worship, 
and  sanctified  a  sabbath  for  himself.  All  men  were  cre- 
ated for  the  honour  of  God,  and  are  infinitely  obliged  to 
serve  him;  yet,  because  the  greatest  part  of  mankind  are 
too  mnch  engaged  in  worldly  afl'airs,  and  have  their  souls 
fettered  in  the  distracting  cares  of  this  life,  and  almost 
buried  in  their  bodies,  it  hath  pleased  the  divine  wisdom 
to  call  forth  a  select  number  of  men,  who,  being  deliv- 
ered from  those  entanglements,  and  having  their  minds 
more  highly  purified,  and  more  peculiarly  fitted  for  the 
offices  of  religion,  may  attend  continually  on  that  very 
thing.  Religion  is  every  man's  general  calling;  but  it 
is  our  particular  calling  too:  and,  while  the  labourer  is 
at  his  plough,  the  craftsman  at  his  forge,  and  the  mer- 
chant in  his  shop,  the  minister  ought  to  be  employed  in 
the  exercise  of  devotion,  for  the  interest  of  advancing 
pietv,  and  the  honour  of  our  Maker.  My  beloved,  ye 
are  "deouted,  as  it  were,  by  the  whole  creation,  at  least 
by  the  inferior  world,  to  present  their  homage  and  ser- 
vice to  God,  and  to  praise  him  for  all  his. works.  You 
ought  to  maintain  a  correspondence  between  heaven  and 
earth,  todeprecate  the  wrath  of  God,  and  avert  his  ven- 
geance and  plagues  from  mankind.  Your  business  is 
the  same  with  that  of  the  holy  angels:  you  dwell  in  the 
house  of  God,  and  should  be  continually  praising  him. 
And  this  is  an  employment  so  holy,  that,  were  our  souls 
as  pure  as  chenibs,  as  zealous  and  active  as  the  blessed 
spirits  that  are  above,  we  should  yet  have  reason  to 
cover  our  faces,  and  to  be  swallowed  up  in  a  deep  sense 


202  IMPORTANCE    AND    DIFFICULTY    OF 

of  our  own  insufficiency  for  these  things.  And  what  is 
sinful  dust  and  ashes,  that  he  should  stand  in  so  near  a 
relation  unto  the  Lord  of  glory!  What  is  man,  O  bless- 
ed God,  that  tliou  shouldst  choose  him,  and  cause  him 
to  approach  unto  thee  I  that  he  should  dwell  in  thy  courts; 
and  be  satisfied  with  the  goodness  of  thy  house,  even  of 
thine  holy  temple!  The  priesthood,  under  the  law,  was 
a  very  sacred  and  venerable  thing,  and  no  profane  hand 
might  intermeddle  with  the  meanest  offices  that  belong- 
ed unto  it.  All  the  zeal  and  seemingly  religious  care 
that  Uzzah  had  for  the  tottering  ark,  served  not  to  ex- 
cuse his  presumption,  when  he  intruded  upon  the  Lev- 
itical  function:  but,  certainly,  as  the  gospel  ministry  is 
so  much  more  excellent  and  sublime,  being  intrusted 
with  the  administration  of  those  holy  mysteries  which 
were  but  shadow  ed  in  the  former — how  pure  and  holy 
ought  those  lips  to  be,  by  which  God  speaketh  unto  his 
people,  and  by  which  they  speak  unto  him;  which  some- 
times pronounce  those  powerful  and  effectual  sentences 
of  absolution  and  excommunication,  that  are  so  surely 
ratified  in  heaven:  and  those  hands  which  are  employed 
in  the  laver  of  regeneration,  and  to  handle  the  bread  of 
life!  Hi  sunt,  (sajth  holy  Chrysostom,  de  sacerd. 
lib.  3.)  quibus,  &c,  "  These  are  the  men  that  assist  at 
the  pangs  of  the  new  birth,  and  to  whom  baptismal  re- 
generation is  committed:  by  those  we  put  on  Christ,  and 
are  buried  with  the  Son  of  God,  and  so  become  mem- 
bers of  that  blessed  head.  Upon  which  account  the  sa- 
cerdotal function  is  more  creditable  than  that  of  kings 
and  princes;  and  we  owe  more  honour  unto  priests,  than 
unto  parents  themselves;  for  they  have  begotten  us  of 
blood,  and  of  the  will  of  the  flesh;  but  these  are  the  au-» 
thors  of  that  nativity  which  we  have  from  God;  that 
adoption,  ^vhereby,  through  grace,  we  become  the  chil- 
dren of  the  i^Jost  High."  And,  again,  the  same  father, 
speaking  of  the  sacerdotal  power,  expresses  it  in  these 
terms:  Qui  terram  incolunt,  atque  in  ea  versantur, 
his  cominissum  est,  ut  ea  qucB  in  ccelis  sunt  dispen- 
sent,  &c.  "  Men  that  live  on  earth,  do  dispense  the 
things  that  are  in  heaven ;  and  are  intrusted  with  a  pow-* 


THE  MINISTERIAL   FUNCTION.  2(J3 

©r  that  neither  angels  nor  archangels  can  pretend  unto: 
for  to  none  of  these  was  it  said,  What  ye  bind  on  earth, 
shall  be  bound  in  heaven.  Earthly  princes  have  the 
power  of  binding,  but  it  is  only  the  bodies  of  men. 
These  bands  that  I  speak  of,  take  hold  of  the  souls  of 
men,  and  reach  unto  the  very  heavens;  so  that  God  doth 
ratify  above,  what  the  priest  determines  below;  and  his 
servants'  decrees  are  ratified  by  their  Lord.  The  Fa- 
ther hath  given  all  judgment  to  the  Son;  but  now,  it 
seems,  the  Son  does  deliver  it  to  the  pastors  of  the 
church.  And  so  eminent  is  this  authority,  that  one 
would  think  the  persons  invested  with  it,  must  needs  be 
raised  above  the  common  condition  of  men,  and  ex- 
empted from  human  affections,  and,  as  it  were,  already 
placed  in  heaven."  Thus  far  this  holy  father.  Nor  can 
I  pass  by  what  he  says  of  that  ineffable  privilege  of  the 
celebration  of  the  holy  sacrament,  though  some  of  his 
expressions,  being  figurative  and  hyperbolical,  have  been 
abused  by  the  Romish  party:  Dum  conspicis  Dominum 
in  immolatione,  et  sacerdotem  sacrificio  incumhen- 
teni,&,c. — "When  thou  dost  behold  the  Lord  of  glory  of- 
fered up,  and  the  priest  performing  the  sacrifice,  and  the 
people  round  about  dyed,  as  it  v/ere,  and  made  red  with 
that  precious  blood;  where,  I  pray  thee,  dost  thou  con- 
ceive thyself  to  be?  Dost  thou  think  thou  art  on  earth, 
and  conversing  among  mortal  creatures:  or  art  thou  not 
rather  on  a  sudden  transported  into  heaven?  Dost  thou 
not  lose  all  thoughts  of  the  body,  and  material  things, 
and  with  a  pure  mind,  and  naked  soul,  behold  the 
things  that  are  done  in  those  regions  above?  And  when 
the  minister  has  invoked  the  divine  Spirit,  and  perform- 
ed those  reverend  and  dreadful  mysteries,  and  holdeth 
the  Lord  of  all  things  in  his  hand,  tell  me,  I  beseech  you, 
in  what  order  of  things  we  are  to  place  him?  What  up- 
rightness, what  purity  is  required  of  him!  what  hands 
should  they  be  that  administer  those  things!  what  lips 
that  utter  and  pronounce  those  words!  For  at  that  time 
the  holy  angels  stand  by  the  priest;  the  place  is  full  of 
blessed  spirits,  who  desire  to  look  into  those  things;  and 
all  the  orders  of  the  heavenly  host  do  shout,  and  rais« 


204  IMPORTANCE   AND  DIFFICULTY  OF 

their  voice  together,  as  we  may  easily  believe,  if  we  con-- 
sider  the  work  that  is  then  in  hand."  I  cannot  stand  to 
relate  all  th.t  this  excellent  person  speaketh  to  the  same 
purpose,  but  shall  proceed  to  the  next  thing  we  pro- 
posed. 

The  weight  and  importance  of  the  ministerial  func- 
tion, considered  in  relation  to  the  people  committed 
to  our  charge,  ^^'e  are  not  intrusted  with  their  fortune 
or  estate,  nor  with  their  bodily  health  and  welfare,  nor 
with  the  affairs  of  state,  or  the  interest  of  kingdoms; 
though,  indeed,  religion  hath  no  small  influence  on 
these,  and  the  labours  of  ministei-s,  if  successful,  would 
contribute  exceedingly  to  the  public  tranquillity,  and  the 
present  felicity  of  men.  But  our  main  business  lieth  an- 
other way.  We  have  to  do  with  rational  and  immortal 
souls,  those  most  noble  and  divine  substances  which 
proceeded  from  God,  and  are  capable  of  bciiig  united 
to  him  eternally,  but  withal  in  hazard  of  being  eter- 
nally separated  from  him;  these  ff^^/upivCuTiiy.a'TA  tov 
Qiov  Kd.1  6'oLiy.'.\ce\',  as  Synesius  calls  them,  these  stakes 
between  God  and  the  devil:  and  on  us  it  doth  in  some 
measure  depend  to  whose  share  they  shall  full,  whether 
they  shall  be  angels  or  fiends.  We  may  say  with  rea- 
son of  our  work,  what  the  painter  did  vainly  boast  of, 
Lahoramiis  oiternitati:  The  impresses  we  make  shall 
last  for  ever.  My  beloved,  the  most  serious  of  our 
thoughts  come  very  far  short  of  the  inestimable  worth 
of  the  depositum,  that  treasure  which  is  committed  to 
our  care.  He  w^ho  did  create  and  redeem  the  souls  of 
men.  doth  best  understand  their  value:  and  we  see  what 
esteem  he  putteth  upon  them,  by  the  pains  he  is  pleased 
to  take  about  them.  Their  salvation  was  contrived  be- 
fore the  mountains  were  brought  forth,  before  the  foun- 
d-ition  of  the  earth  was  laid;  the  design  was  formed 
from  "all  eternity;  and  glorious  are  the  methods  by 
which  it  is  accomplished.  Hue  magislra  lex  tendit: 
hue,  inter  Christum  et  legem  intcrjecti,  prophetcp, 
paith  St.  Greg.  Naz.  "  At  this  both  the  law  and  the 
prophets  did  aim."  Hue  ciinaiiita  Deitas:  hue  as- 
sumpta  oaro;  hue  nova  ilia  ?nixtio.     "  To  this  pur- 


THE    MINISTERIAL  FUNCTIOlV.  205 

pose  did  the  Deity  empty  itself,  and  was  clotlied  with 
the  human  nature;  to  this  purpose  was  that  strange 
and  wonderful  conjun-ction,  (iod  and  man  united  to- 
gether!" Hitherto  did  all  the  actions  and  all  the  suf- 
ferings of  our  blessed  Saviour  aim — for  this  he  was  born, 
and  for  this  he  did  die.  And  shall  we  undervalue  the 
price  of  his  blood,  or  think  it  a  small  matter  to  have 
the  charge  of  those  for  whom  it  was  shed?  It  is  the 
church  of  God  we  must  oversee  and  feed;  that  church 
for  which  the  world  is  upheld,  which  is  sanctified  by 
the  Holy  Ghost,  on  which  the  angels  themselves  do  at- 
tend. What  a  weighty  charge  is  this  we  have  under- 
taken! Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things? 

That  these  matters  may  yet  take  the  deeper  impres- 
sion on  our  hearts,  let  us  farther  consider  the  dreadful 
consequences  of  miscarriage  in  the  discharge  of  the  min- 
isterial function;  and  we  shall  find  that  it  reflects  a  great 
deal  of  dishonour  on  the  divme  Majesty,  and  on  our  bles- 
sed Saviour;  that  it  doth  very  much  hazard  the  souls  of 
our  people,  and  certainly  ruins  our  own.  I  say,  it  doth 
reflect  dishonour  on  Almighty  God,  as  the  faults  of  ser- 
vants do  commonly  prejudice  the  reputation  of  their 
masters,  and  the  failings  of  ambassadors  are  imputed  to 
their  prirtces.  We  stand  in  a  nearer  relation  to  God, 
and  are  supposed  to  be  best  acquainted  with  his  will, 
and  to  carry  the  deepest  impressions  of  his  nature  on  our 
minds.  And  ignorant  people  will  entertain  the  meaner 
thoughts  of  the  holiness  of  God,  when  they  m.iss  it  in 
those  who  are  called  his  sei"vants.  Certainly  it  is  no 
small  reproach  which  the  faults  or  miscarriages  of  min- 
isters do  bring  upon  the  ways  of  godliness,  and  the  holy 
religion  we  profess.  It  is  no  small  afii-ont  that  is  hereby 
put  on  the  blessed  author  of  it;  greater,  without  ques- 
tion, than  all  the  malice  and  spite  of  his  open  enemiea 
is  able  to  practise:  for  hereby  he  is  cmcified  afresh,  and 
put  unto  open  shame.  And  O  how  great  is  the  hazard 
our  poor  people  do  run  by  our  negligen-ce  or  failings, 
even  as  much  as  the  worth  of  their  souls  amounteth  to! 
If  the  watchmen  be  not  faithful,  and  give  not  timely 
warning,  the  sword  will  readilv  come,  and  the  people 
IS 


206  IMPORTANCE    AND    DIFFICULTY    OF 

be  taken  away  in  their  sins.  Causa  sunt  ruincB  po- 
puli  sacerdotes  mali.  Like  people,  like  priests,  will 
still  be  a  proverb  of  a  general  troth.  But  if  the  negli- 
gence and  miscarriage  of  a  minister  d.th  hazard  the 
souls  of  others,  it  doth  certainly  ruin  his  own ;  which 
made  St.  Chrysostom  say,  Equidem  ex  ecclesics 
ministris  non  arhitror  multos  servari ;  words  so 
terrible,  that  I  tremble  to  put  them  into  English:  and  yet, 
if  a  man  should  speak  fire,  blood,  and  smoke — if  flames 
could  come  out  of  his  mouth  instead  of  words — if  he  had 
a  voice  like  thunder,  and  an  eye  like  lightning,  he  could 
net  sufficiently  represent  the  dreadful  account  that  an  im- 
faithful  pastor  shall  make.  What  horror  and  confusion 
shall  it  cast  them  into  at  the  last  day,  to  hear  the  blood 
of  the  Son  of  God  plead  against  them — to  hear  our 
great  master  say,  It  was  the  purchase  of  my  blood 
which  ye  did  neglect!  God  died  for  these  souls,  of 
whom  ye  took  so  little  pains!  think  not,  therefore,  to 
be  saved  by  that  blood  which  ye  have  despised,  or  to 
escape  the  torments  whereunto  many  others  are  plunged 
through  your  faults!  By  this  time  I  hope  it  doth  appear, 
that  the  work  of  the  ministry  is  of  great  weight  and  im- 
portance; that  much  doth  depend  on  the  right  discharg- 
ing of  it;  and  that  miscarrying  in  it  is  the  most  danger- 
ous thing  in  the  world. 

II.  The  second  thing  we  had  to  speak  to,  is  the 
difficulty  of  managing  this  charge  aright.  And  this  will 
appear,  if  we  consider,  1.  The  end  and  design  of  the 
ministerial  function:  2.  The  impediments  we  have  to 
overcome  in  the  prosecution  of  that  end:  and,  3.  The 
several  sorts  of  duties  and  exercises  incumbent  upon  us. 
As  for  the  first — The  great  business  of  our  calling  is,  to 
advance  the  divine  life  in  the  world;  to  make  religion 
sway  and  prevail;  frame  and  mould  the  souls  of  men 
into  a  conformity  to  God,  and  superinduce  the  beautiful 
lineaments  of  his  blessed  image  upon  them;  to  enlighten 
their  understandings,  and  inform  their  judg-ments,  rectify 
their  wills,  and  order  their  passions,  and  sanctify  all 
their  affections.  The  world  lieth  in  sin:  and  it  is  our 
work  to  awaken  men  out  of  their  deadly  sleep — to  ree- 


THE    MINISTERIAL    FUNCTION".  207 

cue  them  out  of  that  dismal  condition.  We  are  the 
instruments  of  God  for  effecting  these  great  designs; 
and  though  we  be  not  accountable  for  the  success,  when 
we  have  done  what  lieth  in  our  power,  yet  nothing  be- 
low this  should  be  our  aim;  and  we  should  never  cease 
our  endeavours,  until  that  gracious  change  be  wrought  in 
every  person  committed  to  our  charge.  And,  if  any 
think  this  an  easy  work,  let  them  pitch  on  some  person 
of  their  acquaintance,  whom  they  know  to  be  addicted 
to  some  one  particular  vice,  and  try  whether  it  be  easy 
to  reclaim  him.  Persuade  the  drunkard,  if  you  can,  to 
forsake  his  cups;  the  covetous  wretch,  to  part  with  his 
money;  reason  but  the  wild  gallant  into  serious  thoughts, 
and  a  grave  and  sober  deportment;  try  to  purge  your 
neighbourhood  of  gross  crimes,  and  scandalous  vices; 
and  persuade  those  that  live  about  you,  to  live  at  least 
as  becomes  men.  In  this  you  have  the  advantage  of 
dealing  with  that  self-love,  which  does  prevail  in  them. 
You  may  easily  convince  them  that  the  practice  of  these 
virtues  you  recommend,  would  contribute  much  to  their 
temporal  felicity,  to  those  interests  of  pleasure,  advan- 
tage, and  honour,  to  which  they  have  the  greatest  re- 
gard— and  yet  you  shall  find  even  this  task  not  ttasy  to 
be  performed.  But  to  raise  men  unto  the  greatest 
heights  of  mortification  and  self-denial;  to  make  them 
truly  humble,  meek,  and  resigned  to  the  will  of  God; 
to  overpower  that  selfish  principle  which  is  so  deeply 
rooted  in  the  constitution  of  our  souls,  and  doth  so 
readily  insinuate  itself  into  all  our  affections  and  designs; 
to  set  divine  love  and  universal  charity  upon  the  throne, 
that  the  honour  of  God,  and  the  welfare  of  others,  may 
be  as  dear  unto  men  as  their  own  concerns;  to  have  re- 
ligion become  another  nature  unto  them,  and  they,  as  it 
were,  a  living  law  unto  tliemselves:  this,  this  is  so  great 
and  wonderful  a  change,  that,  as  only  omnipotence  is 
able  to  produce  it,  so  certainly  they  have  a  mighty  task 
who  are  employed  ^s  instruments  in  it. 

Again,  let  me  appeal  to  the  conscience  and  experi- 
ence of  every  one,  what  difficulty  they  find  in  dealing 
with  their  ewn  souls,  in  regulating  their  own  passions, 


208  IMPORTANCE    AND    DIFFICULTY    OF 

and  in  mortifying  their  own  corrupt  affections:  yet  here 
we  have  the  advantage  of  a  nearer  application;  we  can 
carry  home  our  reasons  with  more  force  upon  ourselves 
than  others;  our  thoughts  and  meditations  must  be  more 
clear  and  lively  than  our  words  and  expressions  are. 
If  it  be  hard,  then,  to  persuade  ourselves  to. be  good,  it 
is  sure  much  harder  to  persuade  others  to  be  so. 

Consider,  in  the  next  place,  the  enemies  we  have  to 
encounter  with,  which  oppose  the  design  of  our  em- 
ployments. We  wrestle  not  against  flesh  and  blood, 
but  against  principalities  and  powers.  All  the  forces  of 
hell  are  up  in  arms  against  us — all  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness do  continually  oppose  us;  and  little  do  we  know 
those  hidden  arts  whereby  these  accursed  spirits  do  ap- 
ply themselves  to  the  souls  of  men,  to  suggest  and  insin- 
uate their  temptations.  The  world,  also,  with  all  its 
cares  and  pleasures,  is  daily  fighthig  against  us;  and 
there  is  no  estate  or  condition  in  it,  but  what  is  sur- 
rounded with  a  thousand  temptations.  The  poor  are  so 
much  taken  up  in  providing  for  the  necessities  of  this 
life,  that  they  can  hardly  be  persuaded  to  think  upon 
another.  The  rich  are  commonly  drowned  in  sensual 
pleasures;  and  our  Saviour  tells  us,  It  is  easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a  rich 
man  to  enter  into  the  khigdom  of  heaven.  The  in- 
fluence of  sensual  objects  is  very  strong.  And  though 
the  possessions  of  the  other  world  be  as  far  beyond  our 
enjoyments  here,  as  this  world  is  above  nothing;  yet, 
because  the  things  of  this  world  are  present,  and  are 
ever  and  a^ion  offering  themselves  unto  us,  and  bearing 
upon  our  senses,  therefore  they  do  too  frequently  prevail 
against  all  the  persuasions  of  reason  and  religion  too. 
And  what  shall  we  say  of  the  evil  company  and  bad 
example  that  inveigles  the  souls  of  men?  We,  per- 
haps, see  them  once  a  week,  and  bring  them  to  some 
degree  of  sobriety,  and  a  sound  mind;  but  then  their 
wicked  neighbours,  and  the  companions  of  their  sin,  do 
meet  them  every  day,  and,  by  their  counsel  and  exam- 
ple, obliterate  any  good  impression  that  has  been  made 
upon  them:  and  hereby  we  lose  more  in  a  week,  than 


■THE    MINISTERIAL    FUNCTION.  209 

we  are  able  to  recover  in  a  whole  year.  But  the  great- 
est enemies  we  have,  are  those  within  the  souls  of  men: 
their  depraved  affections,  their  lusts  and  corrupt  incli- 
nations. When  physicians  undertake  the  cure  of  bodi- 
ly distempers,  they  have  the  consent  of  the  party;  he 
is  ready  to  comply  with  their  prescriptions.  But  our 
greatest  difficulty  is  in  dealing  with  the  wills  of  men, 
and  making  them  consent  to  be  cured.  They  hug  the 
disease,  and  shun  the  medicine  as  poison,  and  have  no 
desire  to  be  well.  Hence  it  is,  they  do  all  they  can  to 
keep  us  strangers  to  their  souls,  and  take  as  much  pains 
to  conceal  their  inward  distempers,  as  they  ought  to  do 
in  revealing  them.  We  have  justly  shaken  off  the  ty- 
ran.ny  of  the  Romish  confession:  but,  alas!  our  people 
go  too  far  in  the  other  extreme;  and,  because  they  are 
not  obliged  to  tell  every  thing  to  their  pastors,  in  effect 
they  acquaint  them  with  nothing  at  all.  Perhaps  some 
persons,  lying  under  some  terrors  and  trouble  of  mind, 
rnay  apply  themselves  unto  us,  to  give  vent  to  the  fire 
that  burneth  within  them;  but  otherwise  they  content 
themselves  to  see  us  in  the  pulpit,  and  care  not  how  lit- 
tle we  be  acquainted  with  their  temper  and  way.  It 
will  be  long  ere  any  come  to  tell  us,  that  they  find 
themselves  proud,  or  passionate,  or  revengeful,  and  in- 
quire how  they  shall  get  these  vices  subdued;  that  they 
are  covetous  and  uncharitable,  and  beseech  us  to  tell 
them  how  they  shall  amend;  to  acquaint  us  with  their 
temptations,  and  to  learn  the  fittest  methods  to  oppose 
them.  We  are  seldom  troubled  with  addresses  of  this 
nature;  and  it  is  hard  to  do  any  thing  towards  a  cure, 
when  they  will  not  let  us  know  the  disease. 

The  difficulty  of  the  ministerial  function  will  further 
appear,  if  we  will  consider  the  several  duties  and  exer- 
cises of  it.  We  shall  but  touch  at  some  of  them  at 
present,  and  may  perhaps  have  occasion  to  speak  more 
in  the  application. 

Catechising  is  a  necessary  but  painful  one.     It   is 

no  small  toil,  to  tell  the  same  things  a  thousand  times  to 

some  dull   and  ignorant  people,  who,   perhaps,   shall 

Jinow  but  little  when  we  have  done.     It  is  this  labori- 

18* 


210  IMPORTANCE  AND  DIFFICULTY  OF 

ous  exercise  that  does  sometimes  tempt  a  minister  to 
envy  the  condition  of  those  who  gain  their  living  by 
the  sweat  of  their  brows,  without  the  toil  and  distrac- 
tion of  their  spirits. 

Preaching  is  an  exercise  that  many  are  ambitious 
of,  and  none  more  than  those  that  are  least  qualified 
for  it;  and,  it  is  probable,  the  desire  of  this  liberty  is 
no  small  temptation  to  some  of  our  giddy  people  to  go 
over  to  that  sect  and  party,  where  all  ranks,  and  both 
sexes,  are  allowed  the  satisfaction  to  hear  themselves 
talk  in  public.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  a  matter  to  per- 
form this  task  aright;  to  stand  in  the  presence  of  God, 
and  to  speak  to  his  people  in  his  name,  with  that  plain- 
ness and  simplicity,  that  seriousness  and  gravity,  that 
zeal  and  concern,  which  the  business  requires:  to  ac- 
commodate ourselves  to  the  capacity  of  the  common 
people,  without  disgusting  our  more  knowing  hearers 
by  the  insipid  flatness  of  our  discourse;  to  excite  and 
awaken  drowsy  souls,  without  terrifying  and  disturbing 
more  tender  consciences:  to  bear  home  the  convictions 
of  sin,  without  the  appearance  of  some  personal  reflec- 
tion; in  a  word,  to  approve  ourselves  unto  God  as  work- 
men that  need  not  be  ashamed,  rightly  dividing  the 
word  of  truth. 

Discipline  is  an  edged  tool;  and  they  had  need  be 
no  fools  that  meddle  with  it.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  man- 
age the  processes  of  the  censures  of  the  church  with 
such  care  and  prudence,  that  may  neither  encourage 
flagitious  persons  by  our  remissness,  nor  tempt  to  irri- 
tate others  by  needless  severity,  nor  give  advantage  to 
captious  and  troublesome  men  for  want  of  some  legal 
formality. 

But  certainly  the  greatest  and  most  difficult  work  of 
a  minister  is,  in  applying  himself  particularly  to  the  sev- 
eral persons  under  his  charge;  to  acquaint  himself  with 
their  behaviour,  and  the  temper  of  their  souls;  to  redress 
what  is  amiss,  and  prevent  their  future  miscarriages. 
Without  this  private  work,  his  other  endeavours  will  do 
little  good.  And,  considermg  the  great  variety  that  is 
among  the  humours  and  dispositioua  of  men,  (equal,  al« 


THE   MINISTERIAL   FUNCTION".  211 

most,  to  that  of  their  faces,)  this  must  needs  be  an  in- 
finite Itiboar.  It  is  the  art  of  arts,  (sailh  Gregory  Na- 
zianzen  in  his  Apologetic  Oration,)  and  the  most  diffi- 
cult of  all  sciences,  to  govern  such  a  manifold  and 
various  creature  as  man.  And  another  Gregory  hath 
written  a  whole  tractate  of  the  diversity  there  is  amongst 
men's  tempers,  and  the  several  ways  of  dealing  with 
them.  What  a  martyrdom  is  it  for  some  modest  and 
bashful  tempers,  when  they  find  themselves  obliged  to  use 
freedom  and  severity  in  reproving  the  faults  of  those  who, 
in  quality  or  age,  are  above  themselves!  And,  O  what 
a  hard  matter  it  is  to  deal  with  people  that  are  ready  to 
leave  the  world,  and  step  in  upon  eternity;  when  their 
souls  do,  as  it  were,  hang  on  their  lips,  and  they  have 
one  foot  (as  we  .use  to  say)  already  in  the  grave.  The 
minister  is  seldom  sent  for  till  the  physician  has  given 
the  patient  over;  and  then  they  beg  him  to  dress  their 
souls  for  heaven,  when  their  windingsheet  is  preparing, 
and  their  friends  are  almost  ready  to  dress  the  body  for 
the  funeral.  Now,  though  some  of  these  have  lived 
well,  and,  like  the  wise  virgins,  have  oil  in  their  lamps 
— yet  it  is  a  great  matter  to  calm  them,  and  to  dispose 
their  souls  for  that  great  change  they  are  presently  to 
undergo.  But,  alas!  it  fares  otherwise  with  the  greatest 
part.  They  are  yet  strangers  to  the  ways  of  religion,  the 
work  of  their  salvation  is  yet  to  begin,  and  their  lusts  to 
be  mortified,  their  corruptions  subdued,  the  whole  frame 
of  their  souls  to  be  changed:  and  though  they  have  scarce 
so  much  strength  as  to  turn  them  on  their  beds,  yet 
their  warfare  against  principalities,  powers,  and  spiritual 
wickedness  is  but  newly  commenced;  their  work  is 
great,  their  disadvantages  many,  and  the  time  very  short 
that  is  before  them.  Perhaps  tliey  are  dull  and  insensi- 
ble, and  we  shall  hardly  persuade  them  of  their  danger. 
They  will  acknowledge  they  are  sinners,  and  so  are  all 
others,  as  well  as  they:  they  tmst  to  the  merci-es  of 
Christ,  and  have  confidence  enough  of  their  salvation; 
and  cannot  be  persuaded  they  want  any  thing  that  is 
necessary  for  the  same.  Others  of  these,  again,  are 
seized  with  fear,  and  call  for  the  minister  to  comfort 


2l2  IMPORTANCE   AND  DIFFICULTY  OF 

them.  What  shall  he  do?  Shall  he  tell  them  that  ail 
their  ten-ois  are  just,  and  it  is  now  too  late  to  repent? 
I  know  some  divines  are  peremptory  in  this  case,  and 
think  they  should  be  left  in  despair:  but,  sure,  it  were  a 
sad  employment  for  a  minister,  to  go  to  visit  a  dying 
man,  only  to  tell  him  he  is  damned;  and  withal  it  is  too 
great  boldness  in  us,  to  limit  the  grace  and  mercy  of 
God.  True  and  sincere  repentance  will  never  come  too 
late;  but,  certainly,  a  deathbed  repentance  is  seldom 
sincere:  and  it  is  hard  either  for  the  minister,  or  the 
man  himself,  to  tell  whether  it  be  only  the  fear  of  hell, 
or  a  true  and  godly  sorrow  that  he  feeleth  in  his  soul. 
All  that  a  minister  can  do,  is,  to  press  him  to  all  pos- 
sible seriousness,  and  to  resign  himself  to  God  for  the 
event;  or  to  lay  before  him,  in  general,  the  terms  and 
conditions  of  the  gospel-covenant:  the  application  will 
be  hai-d  and  uncertain. 

These,  and  many  more,  are  the  difficulties  of  the 
ministerial  function.  It  was  not  without  a  great  deal  of 
reason  that  one  of  the  fathers  did  call  it,  Onus  angeli- 
cis  hiimeris  formidandum:  "A  weight  under  which 
angels'  shoulders  might  shrink."  Hence  it  was,  that 
the  holy  men  of  old  have  been  so  mightily  afraid  to  un- 
dertake it.  Jeremiah,  who  was  sanctified  from  the 
womb,  and  ordamed  a  prophet  to  the  nations,  when  he 
received  his  commission,  he  cried  out.  Ah!  Lord  God, 
behold,  I  cannot  speak,  for  I  am  a  child.  And  Ezekiel 
though  strengthened  and  confirmed  by  God,  yet  went 
unwillingly;  yea,  in  the  bitterness  and  indignation  of  his 
spirit.  And,  in  the  ancient  church,  the  more  eminent 
and  great  persons  were  in  piety  and  worth,  the  more 
sensible  they  were  of  the  greatness  of  this  charge,  and 
the  more  loth  to  engage  in  it.  Some  of  them  have  fled 
into  the  mountains  and  deserts,  or  hid  themselves  in  the 
dens  and  caverns  of  the  earth;  and  were  more  afraid  to 
be  laid  hands  on  by  the  bishop,  than  by  the  most  bloody 
persecutors.  Three  times  did  Ambrose  flee  from  Milan; 
and  it  is  reported,  that  after  he  had  travelled  hard  all 
night,  he  found  himself  next  morning  at  the  outer  gate  of 
that  city  he  endeavoured  to  avoid.     Gregory  Nazianzen, 


THE  MINISTERIAL  FUNCTION-.  213 

being  taken  in  his  flight,  and  ordained  by  force,  did  com- 
pose that  exceKent  oratjon  which  is  at  the  begiiining  of 
his  works;  wherein  he  doth  so  well  express  the  greatness 
and  the  danger  of  the  ministry,  that  the  reading  of  it 
(and  I  wish  it  were  frequently  and  attentively  read) 
might,  1  think,  do  much  to  quell  the  confidence  of  the 
most  confident  intruders.  Augustine  entered,  by  chance, 
into  the  church  of  Hippo,  just  as  the  bishop  Valerius  was 
speaking  to  the  people  concerning  the  choice  of  a  minis- 
ter, of  whom  they  stood  in  great  need.  He  was  pres- 
ently pitched  upon,  and  almost  ordained  by  force,  after 
he  had,  with  tears,  deprecated  the  charge;  and,  in  these 
strange  terms:  Qwirf/  vultis  utpereaml  intimating  the 
hazard  he  should  thereby  run.  And  Chrysostom  pro- 
fesseth  of  himself,  that,  when  he  was  chosen  to  a  bish- 
opric, his  soul  and  body  were  almost  parted  asunder,  so 
great  was  the  grief  and  fear  that  seized  upon  his  spirits ; 
and  that  he  did  many  times  wonder  how  it  had  ever  en- 
tered into  the  minds  of  those  that  chose  him,  or  what 
great  offence  that  church  had  been  guilty  of,  which  had 
provoked  God  to  suffer  it  to  be  committed  to  such  an 
unworthy  person.  So  sensible  were  these  excellent  men 
of  the  difficulties  of  this  holy  function,  even  in  those 
first  and  golden  ages  of  the  church;  and  certainly  they 
are  much  augmented  to  us,  who  live  in  these  dregs  of 
time,  wherein  religion  is  almost  banished  out  of  the 
world,  the  principles  of  it  called  in  question  by  many- 
pretenders  to  judgment  and  wit,  and  the  practice  not 
only  neglected  but  derided;  insomuch  that  men  are 
frighted  from  godliness  by  the  contempt  that  lieth  upon 
it:  Mali  esse  cogrintur,  ne  ridiculi  fiant.  We  have 
a  world  of  wickedness  to  fight  against;  and  loho  is 
suffi.cient  for  these  thingsl 

Thus,  having  prosecuted  the  importance  of  the  text, 
it  is  time  to  make  some  application  of  it.  And,  first,  I 
shall  address  myself  to  those  of  the  laity  who  vouchsafe 
us  their  presence,  that  they  may  not  think  their  time 
mispent  in  some  hours  of  attendance. 

You  see,  dear  people,  what  a  weighty  and  difficult 
charge  they  have  to  whom  your  souls  are  committed 


214  IMPORTANCE   AND  DIFFICULTY   OF 

Whence  is  it,  then,  that  some  of  you  account  the  miii^ 
isterial  function  the  most  useless  employuient  in  the 
cominonweahh,  and  that  which  might  be  most  easily 
spared?  and  that  ministers  have  tasy  lives,  gaining  their 
living  by  the  breath  of  their  mouths,  as  some  of  you  are 
pleased  to  word  it?  Whence  is  it  that  this  holy  calling 
comes  to  be  so  much  despised,  and  that  the  names  of 
Minister,  Parson,  or  Priest,  are  become  words  of  igno- 
miny and  contempt?  And  whatever  advantages  of  birth 
and  education  a  minister  may  have,  yet  his  employment 
is  thought  enough  to  degrade  him,  and  put  him  below 
every  one  that  can  pretend  to  the  name  of  a  gentle^ 
man? 

Again,  how  comes  it  that  those  small  gleanings  of 
the  church's  patrimony,  which  sacrilege  and  oppression 
have  left  us,  should  yet  be  envied,  and  looked  upon 
with  an  evil  eye;  and  that  a  clergyman,  who  has  spent 
his  time,  and  much  of  his  fortune,  in  the  schools  of  the 
prophets,  to  fit  himself  for  that  employment  wherein  he 
may  be  most  beneficial  to  mankind,  should  yet  be  ma- 
ligned for  a  small  annuity  during  life,  which,  perhaps, 
amounts  not  to  the  gains  of  the  meanest  tradesman? 
And  yet,  if  those  persons  had  chosen  another  emplo}'- 
ment — had  taken  Galen  or  Justinian  for  their  masters, 
perhaps  they  would  have  had  parts  and  abilities  sufficient 
to  have  advanced  themselves  to  wealth  and  honours,  as 
well  as  othei-s,  and  would  not  have  been  envied  for  it. 
My  beloved,  I  account  him  not  worthy  of  the  name  of 
a  minister  of  Christ,  who  cannot  patiently  suffer  injury, 
contemprt,  and  envy.  But  certainly  it  is  no  good  part  in 
the  people,  to  put  these  upon  them:  it  is  a  shrewd  token 
that  they  have  a  small  regard  to  piety  and  religion,  and 
that  their  own  souls  are  the  things  about  them  for  which 
they  have  the  least  concern.  Learn,  I  beseech  yon, 
dear  Christians,  learn  to  take  more  rational  measures  of 
things.  Think  how  much  you  are  indebted  to  the  divine 
goodness,  which  hath  taken  so  great  care  of  your  ever- 
lasting happiness,  as  to  set  apart  an  order  of  men,  whose 
business  it  shall  be  to  promote  and  advance  it.  Do  all 
that  you  can  to  encourage  and  assist  them  in  their  workj 


THE   MINISTERIAL.   FUN-CTION.  213 

g've  them  the  encourdgement  of  your  constant  atten- 
dance, and  assist  them,  by  helping  to  instruct  those 
children  and  servants  vvlio  are  under  your  several  char- 
ges. Apply  yourselves  frequently  to  them  for  advice 
and  direction,  and  be  often  putting  up  that  important 
question,  What  shall  we  do  to  be  saved?  Yield  them 
that  submission  and  obedience  which  is  due  unto  them 
in  the  Lord.  Go  not  to  church  to  sit  as  judges,  and 
censure  the  sermon  when  you  return.  If  you  be  not 
pleased  with  it,  your  ignorance  or  indisposition  may  be 
the  cause,  and  modesty  should  oblige  you  to  siknce. 
If  you  be  taken  with  what  you  have  heard,  spend  not 
your  time  in  talk  about  it;  practice  is  the  best  way  to 
commend  it;  Beware  of  that  spiritual  pride  and  con- 
ceitedness,  which  makes  the  people  to  strive  with  their 
priests;  which  the  prophet  Hosea  notes  as  an  heinous 
sin.  Finally,  to  sum  up  your  duty  in  the  Apostle's 
words,  Obey  them  that  have  the  rule  over  you,  and  sub- 
mit yourselves:  for  they  watch  for  your  souls,  as  they 
that  must  give  account:  that  they  may  do  it  with  joy, 
and  npt  with  grief:  for  that  is  unprofitable  for  you. 

I  mighti  in  the  next  place,  take  an  occasion  from 
what  hath  been  said,  to  press  the  great  obligation  that 
lieth  on  patrons  of  churches,  to  seek  out,  and  to  make 
choice  of  those  whom  they  judge  to  be  best  qualified  for 
so  high  and  weighty  a  charge;  and  might  show,  that  it  is 
no  small  guilt  that  he  draws  upon  himself,  who  presents  a 
person  to  the  care  of  souls,  of  whose  pradence  and  fideli- 
ty it  may  be  he  hath  so  little  confidence,  that  he  durst  not 
intrust  him  with  the  management  of  his  fortune,  or  the 
tutory  of  his  child;  while,  perhaps,  others  are  overlook- 
ed, that  might  be  capable  to  do  much  more  service  in 
the  church ,°merely  because  they  have  not  the  good  luck 
to  be  related  or  recommended  to  the  patron,  or  because 
they  have  less  money,  or  more  conscience  than  to  bar- 
gain for  the  living.  But  I  forbear  this:  and  shall  crave 
Hberty  of  this  venerable  auditory,  to  take  this  occasion  of 
doing  something  that  relates  to  my  peculiar  function,  in 
speaking  a  little  to  those  sons  of  the  prophets,  those 
candidates  of  holy  orders,  whose  diligence  and  study  aim 


216  IMPORTANCE   AND   DIFFICULTY  OF 

at  the  ministry,  and  who  are  to  be  employed  in  the  vine- 
yard of  God,  when  the  present  labourers  shall  be  call- 
ed off"  to  receive  their  reward.  You  see,  sirs,  what  a 
dreadful  and  important  charge  it  is  to  which  you  aspire. 
Consider,  I  beseech  you,  what  great  pains  are  necessary 
to  fit  and  qualify  you  for  it.  Ordinary  callings  are  not 
learned  without  a  long  apprenticeship,  and  will  the  art 
of  governing  souls  be  learned  on  a  sudden.'  It  is  not 
knowledge  of  controversy,  or  the  gift  of  eloquence, 
much  less  a  strong  voice  and  bold  confidence  that  will 
qualify  you  for  it.  The  errors  that  abound  among  us, 
make  it  necessary,  indeed,  that  you  should  know  how  to 
deal  with  the  adversaries;  for  the  clergy  are  many  times 
put  to  the  pass  the  Jews  were,  at  the  building  of  the 
second  temple;  w'ith  one  hand  they  nmst  build  the  house 
of  God,  and  with  the  other  they  must  hold  a  weapon: 
yet  certainly  your  greatest  work  lies  within,  in  purifying 
your  minds,  and  learning  that  wisdom  which  is  necessary 
for  souls.  Begin  then,  I  pray  you,  and  preach  to  your 
passions,  and  try  what  good  you  can  do  to  your  friends 
and  neighbours.  Study  that  gravity  and  seriousness, 
that  humility  and  self-denial,  that  purity  and  mortifica- 
tion, that  becometh  those  who  may  one  day  stand  in  so 
near  a  relation  to  God,  and  bear  so  eminent  a  charge 
in  his  church.  Be  not  too  hasty  and  forward  in  rushing 
into  public;  it  is  better  you  be  drawn  than  nm.  Nazi- 
anzen  complains  of  some  in  his  time,  who,  with  profane 
hearts  and  unwashed  hands,  did  rush  into  the  holy  func- 
tion, and,  before  they  were  fit  to  receive  the  sacrament^ 
would  take  upon  them  to  celebrate  it;  and  though  they 
be  not  come  unto  the  age  of  men,  if  they  have  learned 
some  pious  words,  think  themselves  fit  to  be  overeeers 
of  others:  O  prcBfecturum!  O  elatum  animum!  Saeer 
etiam  a  cunabulis  Sarnuel!  Sapientes  et  mas'istri 
sumus!  This,  I  say,  was  the  humour  of  some  in  his 
days;  and  I  am  afraid  the  case  is  not  much  better  in 
ours.  But  if  you  be  truly  sensible  of  what  you  are  to 
undertake,  you  would  think  no  time  too  much,  to  be 
spent  in  preparation  for  it. 

It  remains  yet  that  I  address  myself  briefly  to  you. 


THE    MINISTERIAL    FUffCTlOIV.  Sit 

my  Reverend  brethren,  and  Right  Reverend  fathers^ 
We  have  been  endeavouring  to  lay  before  you  the  im- 
portance and  difficulty  of  your  employment;  and  you 
know  them  much  better  than  we  can  tell  you.  But 
these  things  ought  not  to  discourage  you,  or  make  you 
faint  under  the  weight,  but  rather  to  animate  and  excite 
your  care.  As  Alexander  said  once  of  an  eminent  haz-' 
ard  he  had  encountered,  that  now  he  had  met  with  a 
danger  worthy  his  coura^:  so  may  I  say  of  your  work, 
that  it  is  a  business  worthy  your  zeal,  and  the  love  and 
affection  which  you  owe  unto  your  blessed  master.  And, 
indeed,  you  can  give  no  greater  testimony  of  it,  tha-n  by 
a  faithful  and  conscientious  discharge  of  the  duties  of 
your  calling.  If  your  work  is  great,  your  reward  is  in- 
finitely greater:  and  you  have  Omnipotence  engaged  in 
your  assistance.  Up  and  be  doing,  and  the  Lord  shall 
be  with  you:  only  let  us  be  careful  to  maintain  such  a 
deep  and  constant  sense  of  the  engagements  we  lie  un- 
der, as  may  awaken  us  unto  the  greatest  diligence  and 
watohfulness,  both  over  ourselves  and  others. 

As  for  the  particulars  of  your  duty,  1  dare  not  take 
upon  me  to  be  an  mstructer,  who  have  much  more  need 
to  learn  my  own;  yet,  since  I  am  not  placed  here  to  be 
ahogether  silent,  I  shall  offer  to  you  the  Apostle's  ex- 
hortation to  Titus,  chap.  ii.  15.,  and  take  the  liberty  to 
insist  a  little  upon  the  particulars  of  it:  These  things 
speak  and  exhort,  and  rebuke  with  all  authority.  Let 
no  man  despise  thee.  These  things  speak.  Kere  he 
pointeth  at  that  which  ought  to  be  the  matter  of  our 
doctrine  and  instruction.  We  are  not  to  entertain  our 
people  with  subtle  speculations,  metaphysical  niceties, 
perplexed  notions,  and  foolish  questions,  which  engender 
strife;  but  let  us  speak  the  things  which  become  sound 
doctrine.  Let  us  frequently  inculcate  the  great  and  un- 
controverted  truths  of  our  religion,  and  trouble  our  peo- 
ple no  further  with  controversy  than  necessity  doth  re- 
quire. Let  us  study  to  acquaint  them  with  the  tenor  of 
the  gospel-covenant,  and  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved; 
to  inform  them  of  the  particular  duties  they  owe  both 
lo  God  and  man:  for  the  Apostle  had  before  been  speak- 
19 


218  IMPORTAXCK   AND  DIFFICULTY  OF 

ing  of  the  duties  to  be  recommended  to  every  one  ac- 
cording to  their  several  capacities  and  relations.  And, 
indeed,  it  were  not  amiss,  that  in  catechising,  ministers 
would  bring  home  the  articles  of  faith  by  practical  im- 
provements, both  teaching  men  their  particular  duties, 
and  pressing  them  to  the  performance.  But  it  is  not 
enough  to  speak  these  things — to  tell  men  what  is  in- 
cumbent upon  them:  we  must,  besides,  endeavour  t9 
excite  and  stir  them  up,  by  the  most  powerful  and  ef- 
fectual persuasions;  the  judgment  being  informed,  we 
must  do  all  to  influence  the  affections:  and  this  is  the 
proper  use  of  our  preaching;  which,  though  it  be  over- 
valued by  those  who  place  all  religion  in  hearing,  yet 
certainly  it  is  of  excellent  use,  and  ought  to  be  managed 
with  a  great  deal  of  care.  Let  the  matter  be  weighty 
and  grave,  the  method  plain  and  clear,  the  expression 
neither  soaring  on  the  one  hand,  nor  too  familiar  on  the 
other.  Some  good  men  are  not  aware  what  contempt 
they  draw  on  religion  by  their  coarse  and  homely  allu- 
sions, and  the  silly  and  trivial  proverbs  they  make  use  of. 
Nor  should  our  expressions  be  too  soft  or  effeminate, 
nor  our  pronunciation  affected  or  childish.  Religion  is 
a  rational  and  manly  thing;  and  w  should  strive  to 
recommend  it  with  the  greatest  adva.i''"ge.  But,  above 
all,  let  us  study  such  a  zeal  and  fer---  ur,  as,  flowing 
from  the  deep  sense  of  the  thing  we  sp^ak,  and  being 
regulated  with  prudence  and  decency,  may  be  fittest  to 
reach  the  hearts  of  the  hearers.  The  \Tilgar  that  com- 
monly sit  under  the  pulpit,  (as  the  excellent  Herbert 
speaks,)  are  commonly  as  hard  and  dead  as  the  seatg 
they  sit  on,  and  need  a  mountain  of  fire  to  kindle  them. 
The  best  way  is,  to  preach  the  things  first  to  ourselves, 
and  then  frequently  to  recollect  in  whose  presence  we 
are,  and  whose  business  we  are  doing.  And  I  think  it  no 
small  advantage  that  some  of  a  neighbouring  nation  have, 
who  make  some  considerable  pause  when  they  have  done 
with  a  point,  that  they  may  raise  their  so^uls  towards 
God,  and  that  the  people  may  renew  their  attention. 
But  when  we  have  done  all  that  we  can  by  public 
and  general  exhortatioB,  we  shall  effectuate  very  little 


THE  MINISTERIAL  rrNCTIOTT.  219 

without  a  more  particular  application  to  the  persons 
under  our  charge.  Interest  and  self-love  will  blind  the 
eyes,  and  stop  the  ears  of  men,  and  make  them  shift  off 
from  themselves  those  admonitions  from  the  pulpit  that 
are  displeasing:  and  therefore  we  are  commanded  not 
only  to  teach  and  exhort,  but  also  to  rebuke  with  all  au- 
thority. Now,  those  whom  we  are  to  rebuke,  are  either 
persons  of  a  different  persuasion,  who  dissent  from  our  re- 
ligion, or  withdraw  from  our  ordinances;  and  these  must 
be  dealt  with  very  patiently,  and  with  much  long  suf- 
fering. It  is  not  to  be  expected,  that  an  hasty  confer- 
ence, or  an  abrupt  disputation,  should  prevail  with  those 
who  have  been  long  habituated  to  false  persuasions,  and, 
perhaps,  have  drunk  them  in  with  the  first  of  their  se- 
rious thoughts,  and  religious  inclinations.  We  must  first 
study  to  combat  the  perverseness  of  their  will,  the  pre- 
judices of  the  world,  the  desire  of  victory  and  applause, 
their  pre-engagement  in  a  party,  and  their  shame  and 
unwillingness  to  yield;  and  strive  to  render  them  meek 
and  pliable,  and  sincerely  desirous  to  know  the  truth. 
When  we  have  obtained  this,  they  will  be  both  more 
easily  convinced,  and  more  inexcusable,  if  through  weak- 
ness they  still  continue  in  their  errors.  But  let  us  never 
rest  in  having  drawn  over  a  person  to  our  party,  till  we 
have  engaged  him  to  seriousness  in  the  practice  of  reli- 
gion; for  if  he  continue  a  stranger  to  that,  it  is  little 
matter  whether  he  be  Protestant  or  Papist,  Pagan  or 
Mahometan,  or  any  thing  else  in  the  world:  nay,  the 
better  his  religion  is,  the  more  dreadful  will  his  condem- 
nation be.  It  was  an  excellent  saying  of  an  eminent 
and  holy  person  yet  alive  in  our  church,  "  That  he 
would  rather  be  instrumental  in  persuading  one  man  to 
be  serious  in  religion,  than  the  whole  nation  to  be  con- 
formists. ' '  The  other  sort  of  persons  we  have  to  re- 
buke, are  those  of  our  own  religion,  for  the  vices  and  fail- 
JRgs  of  their  lives.  And  this  must  be  done  with  a  great 
deal  of  courage  and  zeal — of  prudence  and  discretion — of 
meekness  and  love.  More  knowing  and  ingenious  per- 
sons may  be  dealt  with  sometimes  by  secret  insinua- 
tions, and  oblique  reflections  on  the  vices  they  are  guilty 


220         IMPORTANCE    AND    DIFFICULTY    OP 

of;  and  we  may  sometimes  seek  a  way  to  reprove  their 
failings,  by  regretting  and  condemning  our  own.  But 
that  artifice  is  not  necessary  with  the  vulgar:  having  pro- 
fessed our  V>ve  and  good  intentions,  it  will  be  best  to  fall 
roundly  to  the  matter.  Now  this  does  suppose  a  great 
deal  of  care,  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  humours  and 
conversation  of  our  people;  and  the  name  of  watchmen 
that  is  given  us,  implieth  no  less.  And  though  the 
lamentable  va&tness  of  some  of  our  charges  make  it  im- 
possible to  do  all  that  we  could  wish,  yet  must  we  not 
fail  to  do  all  that  we  can.  It  is  an  excellent  practice 
of  some  I  have  the  happiness  to  be  acquainted  with, 
who  seldom  miss  any  da_y  wherein  they  do  not  apply 
themselves  to  some  or  other  of  their  people,  and  treat 
about  the  affairs  of  their  souls. 

Another  thing  which  may  be  implied  in  rebuking 
with  all  authority,  is,  the  conscientious  exercise  of  that 
authority  which  Christ  hath  given  us  in  the  public  cen- 
sures and  rebukes  of  the  church.  But  of  this  I  shall  say 
no  more,  save  only  that  it  were  an  intolerable  presump- 
tion, and  horrid  sacrilege,  to  make  use  of  these  to  serve 
the  ends  of  our  passion  and  private  revenge. 

The  last  clause  of  the  passage  we  cited,  sounds  some- 
what strange:  Let  no  man  despise  thee.  Sure  nobody 
desires  to  be  despised;  and  it  is  not  always  in  the  power 
of  man  to  hinder  it.  But  the  meaning  of  the  words  is, 
that  there  should  be  nothing  in  our  carriage  and  deport- 
ment which  may  deserve  contempt.  We  ought  still  to 
have  that  apology  of  the  orator  in  readiness:  Quid  ptit- 
em?  contemjitumne  mel  Equidem  non  video  quid  sii 
in  vita  morihusque  nosh-is  quod  despicere  possit. 
There  is  nothing  that  doth  expose  a  minister  to  so  much 
contempt,  as  a  vicious  and  irreligious  deportment.  Even 
those  who  are  profane  themselves,  and  love  vice  in  their 
other  companions,  do  yet  abhor  it  in  a  clergyman,  as 
thinking  it  too  gross  and  disingenuous,  to  practise  all  the 
week  what  he  hath  been  condenming  on  Sunday.  I 
shall  not  insist  upon  the  grosser  sort  of  vices.  ^"010 
tain  male  ominari  de  ecclesia:  I  would  not  bode  so 
luuch  evil  to  the  church,  as  to  imagine  the  clergy  capa^ 


THE    MINISTERIAL    FUNCTION".  221 

ble  of  them.  I  shall  point  but  to  a  few  things,  which, 
though  less  heinous  in  their  nature,  tend  to  the  contempt 
and  disrespect  of  the  clergy. 

And  first,  the  least  imputation  of  covetousness  doth  a 
great  deal  of  mischief  this  way.  And  you  know  it  will 
be  reckoned  covetousness  in  you,  which  is  not  so  in  oth- 
ers. You  will  be  more  blamed  for  taking  your  own, 
than  they  for  encroaching  on  their  neighbours.  And 
therefore,  to  prevent  this  imputation,  so  far  as  the  mean- 
ness of  a  minister's  provision,  and  necessity  of  his  fam- 
ily, will  permit,  he  should  show  himself  frank  and  liber- 
al in  his  dealings,  especially  with  the  poorer  sort. 

Another  occasion  of  contempt  is,  the  too  much  fre- 
quenting the  company  of  the  laicks,  and  a  vain  and  trif- 
ling conversation  among  them.  It  was  a  wise  saying, 
whoever  he  was  that  spoke  it,  Quotidiana  clericorum 
cum  laicis  conversatio  contemptibiles  ipsos  reddit. 
And  that  of  Hierom  to  Nepotian  is  very  observable. 
Facile  contemnitur  clericus  si  ad  prandium  invita- 
tus  scBpius  veniat.  A  minister,  in  his  conversation, 
ought  carefully  to  avoid  all  foolish  and  excessive  jesting, 
and  immoderate  mirth.  I  could  never  think  it  a  good 
character  of  a  clergyman,  to  call  him  a  merry  fellow, 
or  a  notable  droll;  and  yet  I  do  not  condemn  all  cheer- 
fulness and  freedom,  nor  the  innocent  exercise  of  wit: 
but  it  is  one  thing  to  make  use  of  these  now  and  then, 
when  they  come  in  our  way — and  another,  to  search 
and  hunt  after  them;  and  those  who  have  the  knack  of 
it,  are  ready  enough  to  fall  into  excess. 

A  third  thing  which  will  bring  a  clergyman  into  con- 
tempt, is,  an  unallowable  patience  in  hearing  his  master 
dishonoured  by  the  oaths  and  profane  talk  of  those  of 
whom  he  standeth  in  awe.  My  brethren,  if  we  had  no 
more  but  the  common  principles  of  ingenuity  and  hon- 
our, they  might  make  us  resent  these  as  greater  affronts 
than  if  men  should  spit  in  our  faces:  and  yet  this  is  but 
one  of  the  meanest  engagements  that  lie  upon  us,  to 
check  these  exhorbitances  with  the  greatest  severity. 

I  shall  name  but  another,  and  it  is  this:  when  men, 
on  design  to  avoid  this  contempt,  would  seem  to  dis- 
19* 


222  MINISTERIAL    FUNCTION. 

claim  their  employment,  by  imitating  the  habit  and  de- 
portment of  secular  persons;  when  they  study  the  gentle- 
man so  much,  that  they  forget  the  clergyman.  If  we 
be  ashamed  of  our  own  employment,  no  wonder  if  oth- 
ers despise  it.  Far  different  were  the  thoughts  of  that 
worthy  gentleman,  and  excellent  minister,  whom  I 
named  before,  that  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  Mr.  Herbert, 
who,  the  same  night  that  he  was  admitted  into  the  of- 
fice of  the  ministry,  said  to  his  friend,  "  I  now  look 
back  on  my  aspiring  thoughts,  and  I  think  myself  more 
happy,  than  if  I  had  obtained  what  I  so  ambitiously 
thirsted  for.  And  I  can  now  behold  the  court  with  an  im- 
partial eye,  and  see  plainly,  that  it  is  made  up  of  fraud, 
and  titles,  and  flattery,  and  many  such  other  imaginary 
painted  pleasures.  My  greatest  ambition  from  hence- 
forth shall  be,  that  I  bring  glory  to  my  Jesus,  whom  I 
have  this  day  taken  to  be  my  master  and  governor;  and 
am  so  proud  of  his  ser\ice,  that  I  will  always  observe 
and  obey,  and  do  his  will,  and  always  call  him  Jesus 
my  master.  I  will  always  contemn  my  birth,  and  any 
title  or  dignity  that  can  be  conferred  upon  me,  when  I 
shall  compare  them  with  the  title  of  being  a  Priest,  and 
serving  at  the  altar  of  Jesus  my  master." 

I  am  afraid  I  have  encroached  too  far  on  your  pa- 
tience. I  shall  close  all  with  a  serious  obtestatioji  of 
our  great  apostle  to  Timothy;  which  you  may  believe 
I  durst  not  utter  in  my  own  name,  but  in  the  name  of 
the  great  master  of  lis  all:  I  charge  thee  before  God,  and 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  shall  judge  the  quick  and  the 
dead  at  his  appearing,  and  his  kingdom:  preach  the 
word,  be  instant  m  season,  and  out  of  season;  reprove, 
rebuke,  exhort  whh  all  long-suffeiing  and  doctrine. 
And  the  Lord  of  his  mercy,  so  assist  and  prosper  us  all 
in  his  own  work,  that  we  may  be  the  happy  instruments 
of  advancing  his  kingdom,  and  the  welfare  of  souls, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     To  whom»  &c» 


SERMON 

PREACHED    AT    THE    FUNERAL 

OF  THE 

REV.  HENRY  SCOUGAL,  A.M. 


BY  GEORGE  GAIRDEN,  D.D. 


PHIL.  I.  21. 

For  me  to  live  is   Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain. 

It  hath  been  the  usnal  practice  of  all  nations  in  the 
world,  of  whatsoever  religion,  sect,  or  persuasion,  to 
leave  upon  record  to  after  ages,  the  lives  and  memorable 
actions  of  those  who  have  been  eminent  among  them 
for  great  or  good  actions.  And  however  this  practice 
may  have  been  abused,  sometimes  to  serve  the  interest 
of  a  sect  or  party,  or  other  undue  ends;  yet  that  the 
memory  of  good  men  ought  thus  to  be  transmitted  to 
posterity,  may  be  deduced  both  from  Scripture  and  com- 
mon reason;  it  being  fit  thus  to  manifest  the  grace  and 
goodness  of  God  in  men,  and  thereby  to  advance  his 
glory  and  kingdom;  and  to  make  their  light  so  shine 
before  others,  that  they  may  be  useful  instructions  to  the 
world,  and  incentives  to  follow  their  examples.  To  this 
we  owe  the  r:emembrance  of  all  those  good  and  great 
men  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament:  nay,  on  this  is 
gnounded  the  establishment  and  purity  of  our  most  holy 
religion.     We  have  left  us  the  memorials  of  the  life  and 


224  A    SERMON    AT    THE    FUNERAL 

dootrine  of  our  blessed  Lord  and  Master  in  the  holy- 
gospels,  and  the  acts  of  his  Apostles,  whom  he  sent  to 
convert  the  world.  And  the  pious  Christians  of  suc- 
ceeding ages,  according  to  this  pattern,  were  careful, 
both  by  public  discourses  and  writings,  to  awaken  their 
own  and  after  times,  with  the  remembrance  of  the  zeal 
and  piety  of  holy  and  devout  persons. 

And  now,  if,  by  the  general  practice  and  consent  of 
all  men,  records  of  exemplary  piety  and  goodness  be 
thus  useful  to  posterity,  even  though  they  be  strangers 
to  the  persons  of  those  whose  lives  and  actions  are  trans- 
mitted to  them;  I  am  sure  we  have  much  reason  to  think, 
that  some  seasonable  and  useful  meditations,  at  such  a 
time  and  in  such  a  place  as  this  is,  may  have  some  in- 
fluence on  our  minds,  when  we  have  here  before  us  the 
remains  of  our  departed  friend,  who  hath  so  lately  left 
this  world;  whose  presence  and  conversation  was  so 
comfortable  to  us;  whose  innocence  and  goodness  were 
so  exemplary;  whose  good-will,  affection,  and  benefi- 
cence were  so  sincere  and  universal;  whose  remem- 
brance is  so  dear  to  us;  who  was  so  much  the  stay  and 
honour  of  our  church,  and  so  universally  beloved  and 
esteemed  by  all.  Sure  the  sense  of  all  these,  and  the 
sight  of  all  this  funeral  attendance,  cannot  but  cast  our 
Bouls  into  some  deep  thoughts.  And  to  this  I  doubt  not 
but  your  hearts  bear  witness.  Would  I  could  say  some- 
thing useful  for  your  meditations,  and  suitable  to  your 
present  temper  and  this  subject!  God  assist  and  direct 
our  thoughts. 

When  I  reflect  upon  the  life  and  spirit  of  our  friend, 
(of  the  which  I  have  had  the  honour  and  happiness  to 
have  been  so  frequent  an  observer,)  and  when  I  consider 
the  constant  temper  and  disposition  of  his  soul,  as  to  this 
and  the  other  world,  the  great  resignation  of  his  mind, 
his  willingness  to  stay  here,  that  he  might  do  some  ser- 
vice to  his  ever-blessed  Maker  and  Redeemer;  and  yet 
his  cheerful  thoughts  and  apprehensions  of  that  happiness 
that  is  above,  and  his  ardent  breathings  after  it:  methinks 
I  hear  always  from  him  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  To  me 
to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain. 


OF    MR.    HENRY    SCOUGAL.  225 

I  shall  not  trouble  j'ou  with  any  large  explanation, 
nor  with  the  various  readings  of  these  words;  we  shall 
only  consider  them  in  their  most  obvious  sense  and 
meaning.  The  blessed  Apostle  being  in  bonds  at  Rome, 
WTites  this  letter  to  the  Philippians,  to  exhort  them  to  a 
perseverance  in  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  to  have  their 
conversation  suitable  to  it.  And,  that  they  might  not  be 
discouraged  by  his  bonds,  he  tells  them  the  happy  fruits 
of  them,  how  much  they  had  conduced  for  the  further- 
ance of  the  gospel;  that  the  knowledge  of  his  suffering 
with  such  constancy  for  that  religion  which  he  had  for- 
merly so  zealously  opposed,  was  spread  throughout  that 
city,  and  manifest  in  the  palace  itself:  so  that  many 
thereby  were  converted  to  the  faith  of  Christ,  and  others 
strengthened  in  it,  and  made  more  bold  to  preach  the 
gospel;  so  that  Christ  was  preached  everywhere,  by 
some,  out  of  envy  at  the  glory  and  fame  he  acquired  in 
planting  the  gospel  there,  and  by  others,  in  sincerity, 
and  out  of  love  and  good-will.  So  that  he  hoped, 
whether  by  life  or  death,  Christ  should  be  magnified  in 
him;  if  he  lived,  by  his  constant  preaching  his  gospel, 
and  living  his  life;  if  he  died,  by  signing  the  truth  of  it 
viith  his  blood:  For  me  to  live  is  Christ.  "  The  whole 
of  my  life  in  this  world,  the  end  of  my  living  here,  the 
great  aim  of  all  my  thoughts,  and  designs,  and  actions,  is 
Christ;  to  be  endued  with  his  Spirit,  and  lead  his  life;  to 
spread  his  gospel,  and  enlarge  his  kingdom.  I  have  no 
other  design  than  this.  God  knows,  and  the  world  sees, 
whether  I  mind  riches,  or  pleasures,  or  glory  among  men. 
No:  I  have  consecrated  my  life  and  spirit  to  my  blessed 
Lord  and  master;  and  they  shall  be  employed  in  his  ser- 
vice. Christ  is  my  life:  so  that  I  live;  yet  not  so  much 
I,  as  Christ  that  liveth  in  me." 

Few  words,  but  full  of  sense  and  truth.  They  are  not 
like  those  airy  expressions  which,  when  searched  into, 
have  nothing  but  fancy  and  imagination  at  the  bottom 
of  them ;  bnt  they  contain  the  very  marrow  of  Christi- 
anity, and  the  whole  of  a  Christian  spirit;  the  complete 
character  of  his  life,  and  a  perfect  instruction  for  ours. 
And  this  will  appear  if  we  consider  a  little  more  distinct-' 


226  A    SERMON    AT    THE    FUNERAL 

ly  their  importance.  For  one  to  live  to  another,  may- 
be said  in  two  respects:  1.  When  he  is  endued  with  the 
same  sp'u-it,  and  has  the  same  temper  of  mind,  and  leads 
the  same  kind  of  life;  and,  2.  Wheji  his  heart  and  his 
life  is  wholly  devoted  to  his  love  and  service;  when  he 
loves  him  above  all,  and  minds  nothing  more  than  his 
interest,  and  employs  his  life  in  serving  his  designs,  and 
doing  his  will.  And,  in  both  these  respects,  (which, 
indeed,  cannot  be  separated,)  we  may  consider  the 
Apostle's  words,  To  me  to  live  is  Christ;  or,  Christ  is 
my  life. 

I.  First,  As  he  was  endued  with  the  Spirit,  and  led 
the  life  of  his  blessed  master:  Be  ye  followers  of  me, 
saith  he,  even  as  I  also  am  of  Christ.  And,  indeed, 
this  is  the  great  design  of  Christianity,  and  the  truest 
character  of  a  Christian.  All  our  duty  and  all  our  hap- 
piness consists  in  the  being  like  unto  God,  and  the  living 
in  that  dependence  upon,  and  subjection  to  him,  that 
reasonable  creatures  owe  their  Almighty  Creator.  Now, 
seeing  God  dwelleth  in  that  light  which  no  man  can 
approach  unto,  whom  no  man  hath  seen  nor  can  see; 
therefore  the  only  begotten  Son,  which  is  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Father,  he  hath  declared  him.  He  hath  clothed 
himself  with  our  flesh,  and  become  man,  and  conversed 
amongst  us,  like  one  of  ourselves,  and  shown  us  what 
the  Father  is,  and  how  we  must  be  lilce  him.  Would 
we  know  how  God  would  live  amongst  us,  were  he 
clothed  with  our  nature  and  infirmities,  if  he  dwelt  in 
our  flesh,  and  were  visible  to  our  eyes?  Behold  the 
Son  of  God,  consider  his  life  and  Spirit,  and  this  is  the 
life  of  God;  for  he  is  the  brightness  of  his  Father's  glory, 
and  the  express  image  of  his  person.  Would  we  learn 
how  far  our  nature  is  capable  of  being  like  unto  God, 
how  we  must  be  partakers  of  the  divine  nature,  and  be 
renewed  in  the  spirit  of  our  minds,  putting  on  the  new 
man,  which,  after  God  is  created  in  righteousness  and 
true  holiness?  Consider  Jesus  Christ,  subject  to  the 
infirmities  of  our  nature,  and  living  the  life  of  God. 
Behold  he  hath  given  us  an  example,  tliat  we  should 
follow  \^  steps.     He  is  the  light  of  the  world;  and  they 


OF    MR.    HENRY     6COUGAL.  227 

that  follow  him,  shall  not  walk  in  darkness.  In  him 
was  life,  and  his  life  was  the  light  of  men,  though  dark- 
ness comprehended  it  not.  Consider  the  profound  hu- 
mility of  his  soul;  the  great  meekness  of  his  spirit;  the 
entire  resignation  of  his  will  to  his  heavenly  Father;  the 
unspotted  purity  of  his  desires  and  affections,  wholly  mor- 
tified as  to  this  lower  world;  the  ardency  of  his  love  to 
God,  and  his  zeal  and  delight  to  do  his  will;  his  won- 
derful patience  under  the  greatest  sufferings;  his  unin- 
terested, sincere,  and  boundless  charity  towards  men, 
doing  good  even  to  those  who  hated  and  persecuted  him, 
and  dying  for  those  who  crucified  him.  In  these,  and 
in  all  other  graces,  he  hath  gone  before  us,  and  called 
upon  us  to  learn  of  him,  and  follow  him.  For  this  end 
did  he  live  and  die,  to  endue  us  with  his  Spirit,  and 
change  our  nature  into  his.  He  humbled  himself  to  our 
nature,  that  he  might  make  us  partake  of  his:  he  hath 
revealed  unto  us  the  nature  of  God,  and  his  undeserved 
grace  and  goodness  to  us,  and  our  unspeakable  misery, 
and  comiption,  and  estrangement  from  our  heavenly 
Father;  and  hath  put  us  again  into  a  capacity  of  being 
his  children,  he  himself  becoming  our  elder  brother, 
lie  hath  raised  us  unto  the  hopes  of  the  enjoyment  of 
God  for  evermore  in  boundless  felicity,  that  we  might 
thus  purify  ourselves  as  God  is  pure.  He  hath  breathed 
his  Holy  Spirit  into  the  world,  to  inspire  us  with  his  life, 
and  changed  us  into  his  image;  and  he  hath  told  us,  that 
without  this  we  shall  never  see  the  face  of  God.  We 
have  therefore  all  the  obligations  in  the  world  to  make 
Christ  our  life,  and  to  follow  Jesus.  This  is  the  only 
mark  and  character  whereby  God  will  own  and  acknowl- 
edge us  for  his.  It  is,  besides,  our  greatest  glory  and 
honour,  to  imitate  so  blessed  an  example,  and  a  won- 
derful expression  of  goodness  and  condescension,  for  the 
Son  of  God  to  come  down  from  heaven  to  give  us  this 
pattern.  He  is  the  most  perfect  example  of  purity  and 
holiness,  in  whom  there  was  no  spot  nor  blemish;  who 
had  no  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth;  but 
his  life  was  uniform,  and  always  pure,  and  constant  to 
himself.     And  yet  he   hath   given    us   the   most   plaia 


228  A    SERMON-    AT  THE    FUNERAL 

and  familiar  copy,  and  the  most  exactly  fitted  to  the 
state  and  condition  of  men  in  this  world.  He  did  not 
retire  into  cells  and  cloisters,  as  if  none  could  walk  as  he 
walked  but  monks  and  recluses;  but  he  conversed  freely 
in  the  world,  and  lived  in  cities  and  villages,  in  compa- 
ny and  converse  with  others.  His  piety  did  not  break 
forth  into  severe  fasting,  and  an  excess  of  other  bodily 
austerities,  in  ecstatic  raptures,  and  enthusiastic  fits, 
such  as  the  lives  of  the  famed  saints  of  the  Romish 
church  are  stuffed  with;  but  it  was  a  plain  life,  of  justice 
and  charity,  meekness  and  humility,  patience  and  con- 
tentedness,  and  a  readiness  to  do  good  to  all  men;  a  life 
that  is  imitable  by  all,  from  the  greatest  prince  to  the 
poorest  peasant.  The  very  importance  of  our  name  and 
profession,  the  calling  ourselves  Christians,  obliges  us  to 
follow  the  example,  and  lead  the  life  of  Christ.  And, 
if  we  mean  not  this  by  it,  we  mean  nothing  to  the  pur- 
pose: for  he  that  saith  he  abideth  in  him,  ought  himself 
also  to  walk,  even  as  he  walked.  Nay,  it  is  this  only, 
the  being  endued  with  his  Spirit,  that  can  entitle  us  to 
an  interest  in  him,  and  that  happiness  which  he  has  pur- 
chased for  us:  for  if  any  man  hath  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ, 
he  is  none  of  his;  so  great  and  many  are  the  obligations 
that  we  have  to  follow  Jesus.  His  commands  are  nothing 
but  the  transcript  of  his  own  life  and  Spirit:  we  ought 
always  to  have  him  in  our  eye;  and  in  every  disposition 
of  our  soul,  in  every  undertaking  and  design;  to  con- 
sider how  our  blessed  master  would  have  done  in  these 
circumstances,  and  aspire  always  to  have  the  same  mind 
that  was  in  him;  and  never  rest  till  Christ  be  formed  in 
us. 

But,  alas!  how  unlilie  are  we  to  the  holy  Jesus! 
Christians  in  name  and  profession,  but  not  in  deed  and  in 
truth.  How  unworthy  a  character  would  it  make  of 
him,  to  measure  him  by  the  lives  and  spirits  of  those 
who  call  themselves  his  followers.  Alas!  in  what  pas- 
sages or  period  of  life  can  we  say  sincerly.  To  me  to 
live  is  Christ?  Do  we  propose  to  ourselves  the  same 
designs?  Are  we  endued  witii  any  spark  of  his  boundless 
charity?     Do  our  souls  burn  with  love  to  God,  or  have 


OF    MR^    HENRY    9C0UGAL;  220 

we  such  a  sincere  good  will  to  our  neighbours?  Are 
our  desires  and  affections  crucified  to  this  world,  and  en- 
livened towards  heaven?  Yea,  what  conformity  is  th^re 
in  our  outward  lives  unto  his  most  holy  laws?  Where 
is  that  forwardness  to  do  good  to  all  men^  that  meek 
suffering  of  injuries,  and  ready  forgiving  of  enemies,  and 
doing  them  good?  Is  scraping  and  scrambling  after 
wealth,  and  this  world's  trifles;  is  rioting  and  wallowing 
in  sensual  pleasures,  and  living  like  brutes;  is  contend- 
ing for  places  and  glory  among  men;  is  strife  and  envy, 
contention  and  evil  speaking,  and  other  such-like  works 
of  the  flesh — are  these,  I  say,  becoming  the  followers 
of  Jesus  Christ?  Is  this  to  live  like  him,  or  are  they 
the  fruits  of  his  Spirit?  Nay,  sure,  in  this  our  hearts 
must  condemn  us;  and,  alas!  our  lives  do  testify  against 
us. 

But,  indeed,  well  might  the  Apostle  say,  To  me  to 
live  is  Christ,  who  was  so  much  endued  with  his  Spirit, 
and  conformed  to  his  life;  whom  nothing  could  separate 
from  the  love  of  God;  who  rejoiced  as  much  in  suffering 
his  will,  as  in  doing  it;  who  was  so  often  in  labour,  and 
stripes,  and  prisons,  in  perils  of  all  sorts,  in  watching, 
and  hunger,  and  thirst,  in  fastings,  and  cold,  and  naked- 
ness; so  far  was  he  from  enjoying  the  pleasures  of  the 
^orld:  who  knew  so  well  both  how  to  abound  and  be 
in  want,  and  in  whatsoever  state,  therewith  to  be  coti- 
tent;  who  was  so  much  crucified  to  the  world,  and  the 
\vorld  unto  him ;  whose  love  and  charity  was  so  exuberant 
and  boundless  towards  his  brethren,  being  ready  to  spend 
and  to  be  spent  for  them,  though  the  more  he  loved,  the 
less  he  was  loved  again;  who  travelled  through  the  world 
to  make  men  better,  and  spared  no  labour  or  pains  to 
make  them  happy;  spending  his  life  in  this  employment, 
and  enduring  all  kinds  of  hardships  in  it.  So  that,  in  a 
word,  he  lived;  yet  not  so  much  he,  as  Christ  that  lived 
in  him. 

II.  But,  secondly,  these  words  do  import,  that  his 

heart  and  life  were  devoted  to  the  service  of  Christ;  that 

he  loved  him  above  all  things,  and  minded  nothing  more 

than  his  interest,  and  employed  his  life  in  serving  his  de- 

20 


280  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAL 

signs,  and  doing  his  will,  and  lived  by  his  faith.  The 
hfe  of  man  in  this  world,  is  to  be  considered  both  as  to 
the  inward  and  outward  man.  The  former,  which  is 
that  of  the  soul,  consists  in  the  understanding,  the  will, 
and  the  affections;  the  other,  being  the  outward  life  and 
conversation,  is  regulated  according  to  the  inward  dispo- 
sitions of  the  soul.  And  as  a  man's  sentiments  and  dis- 
positions are,  such  is  his  life.  Now,  as  the  life  of  the 
body  is  strangely  disordered,  when  the  blood  and  spirits 
do  not  run  in  their  ordinary  course,  but  make  convulsive 
and  involuntary  motions,  which  are  nothing  useful  to 
the  body,  nor  guided  by  the  will;  so  the  life  of  our  souls 
is  so  corrupted,  as  that  we  may  be  said  to  be  dead  while 
we  live,  when  our  judgment  is  blind  and  false,  our  will 
perverse  and  crooked,  our  affections  earthly  and  carnal, 
and  we  do  not  follow  the  will  of  God.  And  this  is  the 
state  of  our  life  by  nature.  What  a  strange  blindness  is 
there  in  the  spirit  of  man.'  We  understand  almost  noth- 
ing of  the  greatest  things,  and  judge  perversely  of  other 
things.  How  little  do  we  know  of  God,  of  oui*  souls, 
of  their  misery,  or  wherein  their  true  happiness  consists,- 
or  of  the  state  after  this  life?  And  how  perversely  do 
we  judge  of  the  trifles  of  this  life,  as  if  our  happiness 
and  our  all  were  summed  up  in  them?  How  corrupt 
are  the  aftections  and  dispositions  of  our  hearts!  We  love 
what  we  ought  to  hate;  we  trust  what  will  certainly  fail 
us,  and  distrust  that  which  should  be  our  only  confidence •>• 
we  fear  that  which  can  do  us  no  harm,  and  are  regard- 
less of  our  greatest  dangers:  we  busy  ourselves  about  tri- 
fles, or  things  that  will  certainly  ruin  us,  and  do  not 
mind  our  greatest  interests.  Aow  Je^us  Christ  is  come 
into  the  world  full  of  grace  and  truth,  to  renew  the  spirit 
of  our  minds,  and  to  change  the  disposition  of  our  hearts, 
and  the  course  of  our  lives:  and  the  life  that  we  ought 
te  lead,  is  by  the  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  loved  us 
and  gave  himself  for  us.  We  must  not  live  by  sense, 
and  our  own  foolish  passions,  and  sentiments  of  things; 
but  according  to  those  sentiments  and  that  faith  that 
he  by  his  word  and  Spirit  inspires  us  with.  To  serve 
Jesus  Christ,  is  to  live  by  hi?  faith,  and  to  live  by  the 


OF  MR.   HENRY   SCOUGAL.  231 

faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  is  to  judge  and  esteem  of  things 
as  he  has  revealed  them,  and  as  he  would  have  us,  and 
accordingly  to  guide  and  direct  our  hearts  and  lives;  to 
love  what  he  bids  us  love,  and  hate  what  he  would  have 
us  to  hate;  to  hope  and  trust  in  his  promises;  to  do  what 
he  commands,  and  forbear  and  avoid  what  he  forbids; 
and  to  employ  our  life  in  doing  his  will,  and  serving  his 
designs.  He  hath  taught  us  to  make  a  right  judgment 
and  estimate  of  things;  to  have  a  deep  sense  of  the  un- 
speakable misery  and  sinfulness  of  our  corrupt  nature, 
of  the  infinite  greatness,  goodness,  and  mercy  of  God, 
and  the  wonderful  contriN-^ance  and  value  of  our  redemp- 
tion. He  has  shown  us  the  worth  and  the  degeneracy 
of  our  souls,  and  what  great  things  they  are  capable  of 
by  the  pure  grace  and  favour  of  God.  He  hath  laid 
open  the  deceitful  appearances  of  this  present  world,  and 
the  great  moment  of  that  eternity  of  joy  or  misery  that 
awaits  us  hereafter.  He  hath  made  known  to  us  what 
great  things  he  hath  done  and  suffered  for  us,  and  what 
boundless  compassion  and  love  he  has  for  such  undeserv- 
ing creatures.  Now,  the  spring  of  that  life  we  should  live 
by  the  faith  of  Jesus  Christ,  is,  to  have  our  understand- 
ings renewed  and  enlightened,  and  to  judge  sincerely 
and  aright  of  these  things,  according  as  he,  who  is  truth 
itself,  hath  revealed  them  unto  us:  and  that  not  to  gratify 
our  curiosity  in  knowing  them,  or  making  them  matter 
of  vanity,  and  talk  to  others;  for  then  we  know  noth- 
ing as  we  ought:  but  to  have  such  a  deep  sense  and  feel- 
ing of  them,  as  to  enliven  our  hearts,  and  guide  our 
practices.  For  then  do  we  truly  live  by  the  faith  of 
Christ,  when  the  sense  of  our  own  sinfulness  and  misery 
sinks  us  into  the  deepest  humility,  and  sincere  abhorrence 
of  ourselves;  and  the  thoughts  of  the  unspeakable  good- 
ness, love,  and  mercy  of  God,  and  what  our  ever-bles- 
sed Redeemer  hath  done,  suffered,  and  purchased  for  us, 
inspires  our  hearts  with  ardent  love  to  them;  and  this 
becomes  the  spring  of  all  our  actions;  makes  us  delight 
to  do  his  will,  and  be  well  pleased  to  suffer  it;  and  study 
always  to  promote  his  interest  in  the  world,  to  make 


232  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAL 

him  be  known  and  loved  by  all  we  can;  and  seek  his 
glory  and  honour  in  all  we  do,  and  not  our  own. 

Thus  to  us  to  live  is  Chri.?t.  Thus  ought  we  to  guide 
our  understandings  by  his  light,  to  inflame  our  hearts 
with  his  love,  to  spend  our  lives  in  his  service,  and  di- 
rect our  actions  to  his  glory.  But,  alas!  how  generally 
are  those  who  call  themselves  Christians,  void  of  this  life 
and  spirit?  Who  is  there  that  sincerely  makes  an  esti- 
mate and  judgment  of  things,  according  to  the  light  of 
Jesus  Christ?  that  thinks  himself  worthy  to  be  truly  hated 
by  all?  that  really  counts  the  honours  and  promotions, 
the  wealth  and  pleasures  of  this  world,  as  so  many 
snares  to  his  soul?  that  heartily  values  the  favour  and  ap- 
probation of  God,  beyond  the  esteem  and  praise  of  men? 
And  however  some  men  may  have  some  fruitless  specu- 
lations in  their  understandings  about  such-like  truths, 
yet,  alas!  how  few  suffer  them  to  sink  into  their  hearts, 
and  direct  their  lives?  Where  is  the  love  of  Jesus?  the 
lively  hopes  and  ardent  desires  after  the  glory  that  is  to 
be  revealed?  the  true  fear  of  God,  or  trust  in  him,  or  a 
sincere  desire  and  delight  to  do  his  will?  And  whatever 
professions  may  be  made  of  all  these,  yet  where  do  the 
fruits  of  them  appear  in  men's  lives  and  conversations? 
for  the  tree  is  known  by  its  fruit.  How  few  actions  are 
there  that  seem  to  proceed  from  the  hearty  love  of 
Christ?  W^herein  do  we  sincerely  aim  at  the  good  of 
men,  and  the  happiness  of  their  souls?  When  do  we 
singly  propose  to  ourselves  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
doing  him  service?  What  instances  are  there  in  our 
conversation  that  seem  to  flow  from  an  unfeigned  hu- 
mility, and  truly  mean  thoughts  of  ourselves?  Alas!  it 
would  puzzle  us,  I  fear,  to  instance  the  action  or  period 
of  our  life  that  flowed  purely  from  such  principles.  We 
are  creatures  of  sense,  and  guided  by  other  measures; 
the  love  of  reputation  among  men;  a  concern  for  the 
conveniences  and  pleasures  of  this  life,  and  an  aversion 
to  the  troubles  of  it;  a  desire  of  transcending  others  in 
power,  wealth,  and  knowledge;  a  natural  sloth  of  spirit, 
and  incojisideration  of  mind;  and,  which  is  the  root  of 


or  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAl,.  233 

all,  pride,  and  a  blind  and  inordinate  self-love.  These 
are  the  springs  that  put  all  in  motion;  by  these  princi- 
ples we  are  guided  in  our  designs,  they  mingle  themselves 
with  our  best  performances:  and  an  impartial  consider- 
ation may  make  us  sensible,  that  there  are  few  actions 
wherein  some  one  or  other  of  these  have  not  always  a 
great  stroke  and  interest. 

But  it  is  far  otherwise  with  St.  Paul;  who,  however, 
before  his  conversion,  was  actuated  by  a  blind  zeal, 
yet,  no  sooner  had  that  glorious  light  which  dazzled  the 
eyes  of  his  body,  enlightened  those  of  his  mind,  but  he 
inade  appear,  by  his  life  and  spirit,  that  he  lived  by  the 
faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  tliat  to  him  to  live  was  Christ. 
How  did  that  light  and  life  shine  before  men;  and  how 
manifest  were  they  in  him,  who  counted  all  things  but 
dung  and  loss,  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of 
Christ  Jesus!  who  gloried  in  nothing  so  much  as  his 
cross,  by  which  the  world  was  crucified  to  him,  and  he 
unto  the  world?  who  reckoned  the  sufferings  of  this  pres- 
ent time  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that 
is  to  be  revealed?  whom  neither  worldly  advantage,  nor 
the  greatest  crosses  and  afflictions,  neither  the  power 
or  malice  of  devils  and  men  could  separate  from  the 
love  of  Christ?  who  gloried  in  nothing  more  than  in  suf- 
fering for  him?  whose  zeal  was  so  great,  and  his  industry 
and  diligence  so  vigorous,  and  his  care  and  management 
so  prudent  and  wise,  in  propagating  his  life  and  spirit, 
and  spreading  his  doctrine?  who  made  so  sudden  a  change 
throughout  the  world,  and  so  many  nations  his  disciples? 
whose  divine  letters  have  so  much  tended  to  the  estab- 
lishment and  propagation  of  the  gospel  in  that  and  all 
succeeding  generations;  a  single  passage  of  one  of  which, 
occasioned  the  conversion  of  one  of  the  greatest  fathers 
of  the  church:  in  which  holy  epistles  the  Christian  doc- 
trine is  so  well  represented;  wherein  persons  of  all  ranks 
and  conditions  have  their  duties  so  clearly  described; 
where  bishops,  and  pastors,  and  people,  rich  and  poor, 
husband  and  wife,  parents  and  children,  masters  and 
servants,  the  prosperous  and  the  afflicted,  may  learn  their 
20* 


234  A    SERMON    AT    THE    FUNERAL 

Christian  duty  and  deportment  in  their  several  circum- 
stances. 

But  I  forbear  to  speak  of  that  great  Apostle  of  the 
Gentiles.  The  present  occasion  leads  us  hither;  nor 
shall  I  presume  to  make  a  parallel.  I  know  there  is  one 
glory  of  the  sun,  another  of  the  moon,  and  another  of 
the  stars:  and  one  star  differeth  from  another  in  glory. 
As  the  happiness  of  the  other  world,  so  the  piety  and 
goodness  of  this  have  their  degrees  and  measures.  I 
shall  only  consider,  for  our  instruction,  how,  in  its  own 
measure,  the  life  and  spirit  of  our  friend  do  breath  forth 
the  same  sentiments.  To  me  to  live  is  Christ;  how  his 
life  and  example,  his  conversation  and  instructions,  his 
thoughts  and  designs,  the  inward  endowments  and  dis- 
positions of  his  soul,  and  the  outward  deportment  and 
actions  of  his  life,  were,  as  to  the  main,  the  fruits  and 
effects  of  a  Christian  spirit,  of  a  holy  and  divine  temper 
of  mind;  and  how  they  all  tended,  and  were  employed, 
to  increase  the  same  in  himself,  and  stir  it  up  in  others, 
and  to  revive  something  of  the  ancient  Christian  piety 
and  goodness  in  the  world. 

To  me  to  live  is  Christ.  Indeed  well  may  it  be  said 
of  his  life,  whose  early  beginnings  and  first  blossoms 
were  seasoned  with  pious  inclinations,  as  well  as  the 
maturer  peaiods  of  it.  The  right  managing  of  infancy 
and  childhood,  is  ordinarily  the  least  of  a  parent's  care; 
and  any  pious  exercises  are  usually  the  least  of  children's 
thoughts.  Every  trifle  tickles  their  fancies,  and  takes 
up  their  spirits:  little  passions  and  envies,  and  other  is- 
sues of  our  natural  corruption,  begin  to  sprout  forth 
even  in  that  tender  age.  But  in  our  deceased  friend^  as 
it  was  his  father's  pious  design  to  devote  him  to  the  ser- 
vice of  God  and  his  church  in  this  holy  function,  who 
did  therefore  take  a  suitable  care  even  of  his  infancy  and 
childhood ;  so  his  pious  inclinations,  and  the  suitable  dis- 
positions of  his  spirit,  did  happily  conspire  with  it:  and 
he  gave  early  indications  of  them  even  in  those  tender 
years.  He  was  not  taken  up  with  the  plays  and  little  di- 
versions of  those  of  his  age,  (which  children  so  much 


OF    MR.    HENRY    SCOUGAL.  235 

doatnpon;)  but,  upon  such  occasions,  did  usually  retire 
from  them;  and  that,  not  out  of  sullenness  of  humour, 
or  dullness  of  spirit,  (the  sweetness  and  serenity  of  whose 
temper  did  even  then  appear,)  but  out  of  a  staidness 
of  mind,  going  to  some  privacy,  and  employing  his  timo 
in  reading,  prayer,  and  such  serious  thoughts  as  that  age 
was  capable  of  Sometimes  he  would  be  taken  up  with 
the  thoughts  of  the  law  of  Moses,  wondering  how  altars 
and  sacrifices,  and  its  other  ceremonies,  were  not  now 
among  the  exercises  of  our  worship;  at  other  times  em- 
ploying himself  in  little  imitations  of  the  exercises  of  the 
holy  function,  as  preaching,  and  the  like.  And  among 
other  instances  of  the  happy  fruits  of  such  retirements, 
this  deserves  to  be  remembered,  that,  being  once  in  a 
serious  reflection  what  course  of  life  he  should  take 
that  might  be  conducive  to  the  salvation  of  his  soul,  and 
being  in  a  deep  muse  of  thoughts,  he  takes  up  the  Bible 
to  read  a  portion  of  it:  and  though  he  was  always  averse 
to  the  making  a  lottery  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  yet  he 
could  not  but  take  notice  of  the  first  words  which,  acci- 
dentally, he  cast  his  eyes-  upon,  and  which  made  no 
small  impression  on  his  spirit;  '  By  what  means  shall  a 
young  man  learn  to  purify  his  way?  by  taking  heed 
thereto,  according  to  thy  word.'  The  diversions  he  was 
then  most  taken  with,  did  speak  out  the  greatness  of  his 
mind  and  spirit;  and  he  seemed  to  act  all  the  grandeur  of 
this  world  while  a  child:  when,  in  learning  the  Latin  he 
began  to  understand  the  Roman  story,  he  retired  usually 
with  the  most  ingenious  of  his  fellows,  composed  little 
orations,  and  acted  the  parts  of  the  Roman  senators.  I 
cannot  here  omit  that  vastness  of  memory,  and  forward- 
ness of  judgment,  which  did  even  then  appear;  in  that, 
when  he  began  to  take  notice  of  the  daily  reading  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures  at  home,  he  could  not  only  repeat  seve- 
ral verses  at  that  time,  whether  the  historical  or  other 
parts;  but  afterwards,  upon  the  turning  to  any  one  par- 
ticular chapter,  could  call  them  to  remembrance;  and 
whereas  those  of  that  age  can,  for  the  most  part,  re- 
member only  some  little  incoherent  passages  of  public 
sermons,  he  did  usually  take  up  their  whole  scope,  and 


236  A    SERMON    AT    THE    FUNERALi 

give  a  brief  account  of  them.  And  though  children 
generally  love  only  the  society  of  their  fellows,  or  &uch 
as  can  entertain  them  with  silly  and  foolish  stories;  yet 
such  was  the  seriousness  of  his  spirit,  and  the  love  he 
even  then  had  for  knowledge  and  good  men,  that  when 
he  had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  serious  and  reverend 
persons,  who  used  to  resort  to  his  father's  house,  he  was 
careful  to  attend  to  them,  and  listen  to  their  wise  and 
pious  discourses.  His  improvements  in  human  literature 
were  beyond  the  ordinary  attainments  of  his  age;  having 
not  only  acquired  a  singular  and  unaffected  elegance  in 
the  Latin  tongue,  but  also  a  considerable  proficiency  in 
Greek,  in  the  Hebrew,  and  some  other  of  the  oriental 
languages;  being  versed,  also,  in  history,  and  in  geome- 
try, and  other  parts  of  the  mathematics.  And  such  was 
the  clearness  of  his  apprehension,  and  the  forwardness 
of  his  judgment,  that,  upon  the  overheaj-ing  an  occasion- 
al discourse  of  some  who  were  passing  their  first  years 
in  the  University,  he  did  quickly  take  up  the  nature  of 
a  syllogism,  the  use  of  the  symbols  in  contriving  it,  and 
could  readily  form  one  upon  any  subject. 

Such  were  his  attainments,  and  such  was  the  temper 
of  his  spirit  in  that  early  period  of  his  life,  which  others 
for  the  most  part  spend  in  vanity  and  folly,  and  begin  to 
repent  of,  when  they  come  to  think  themselves  men. 
And  we  may  see  how  much  a  prudent  father's  wise  and 
pious  care,  when  it  meets  with  a  fit  temper  and  disposi- 
tion in  a  child,  may  contribute  to  plant  the  seeds  of  those 
virtuous  endowments  and  good  inclinations  in  that  tender 
age,  which  will  bring  forth  much  fruit  in  their  riper 
years;  and  with  how  much  reason  the  wise  man  bids  us, 
Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he 
is  old  he  will  not  depart  from  it. 

But  the  paths  of  the  just  are  as  the  shining  light,  which 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.  These 
were  the  early  dawnings  of  piety  and  goodness,  which 
appeared  in  him  in  those  first  years  of  his  age,  before  he 
came  to  this  corner  of  our  land ;  and  there  became  still 
more  manifest  and  conspicuous.  His  improvements  had 
now  fitted  him  for  the  University :  and  here  he  gave  fur- 


OF    MR.    HENRY    SCOUGAL.  237 

tber  proofs  of  a  pious  disposition  and  a  capacious  under- 
standing. He  was  far  removed  from  those  levities  and 
foolish  customs,  those  little  animosities  and  strifes  which 
the  inconsiderate  youth  are  sometimes  guilty  of;  but  was 
even  then  grave  and  staid  in  his  deportment,  as  was  ob- 
served by  all,  yet  free  and  unaffected.  The  learning 
that  was  then  in  fashion,  though  he  saw  quite  through 
it,  yet  it  did  not  satisfy  his  understanding,  nor  could  he 
perceive  its  use,  save  to  wrangle  pro  and  con  about  any 
thing.  He  was  desirous  to  dive  into  the  nature  of 
things,  and  not  be  involved  into  a  strife  of  hard  words, 
and  a  maze  of  nice  distinctions:  and,  therefore,  by  his 
own  proper  industry,  and  private  study,  he  became,  even 
then,  master  of  that  philosophy  which  has  now  got  such 
footing  in  the  world;  besides  a  singular  proficiency  he 
made  in  the  several  parts  of  mathematics,  in  history,  and 
other  human  learning.  But  he  was  always  careful  to 
beware  of  any  philosophy  or  false  knowledge  that  was 
opt  to  have  a  bad  influence  on  the  mind,  and  debauch 
the  spirit,  as  to  a  right  sense  of  God  and  religion;  and 
never  suffered  himself  to  be  tainted  in  the  least  with 
such.  And  there  was  nothing  that  more  endeared  any 
philosophical  tratlis  to  him,  than  when  they  gave  right 
apprehensions  of  God,  and  just  thoughts  of  morality  and 
virtue.  His  mind  being  always  composed  to  a  religious 
temper,  he  even  then  made  it  his  business,  by  the  fre- 
quent reading  of  the  most  pious  and  useful  books,  and 
a  happy  conversation,  sanctified  by  a  constant  devotion, 
and  an  unprejudiced  mind,  to  frame  to  himself,  amidst  the 
various  opinions  and  distractions  of  Christendom,  right 
apprehensions  of  religion,  and  accordingly  to  suit  his 
practice:  so  that,  even  then,  religion  was  the  matter  of 
his  serious  and  impartial  choice,  and  not  merely  the 
prejudiceof  custom  and  education.  He  used  sometimes 
to  write  essays  of  morality,  and  occasional  meditations; 
which  as  they  were  singularly  eloquent  and  ingenious, 
so  they  breathed  forth  the  devotion  of  his  mind,  and  the 
seriousness  of  his  spirit;  and  would  very  w-ell  become  a 
riper  age.  It  being  the  custom  of  the  youth  to  have 
private  meetings  about  the  ordering  the  concerns  of  tlieir 


238  A   SERMON  AT  THE    FUNERAL 

commencements,  where  he  was  made  constant  president 
among  his  fellows,  his  discourses  to  them  were  so  grave 
and  becoming,  (as  some  of  them  have  professed,)  that 
they  looked  upon  them  as  the  sayings  of  a  gray  head, 
and  thought  they  savoured  of  the  wisdom  of  a  senator. 
Such  was  his  deportment  and  improvement  for  the  few 
years  he  resided  in  the  University:  so  that,  in  the  esteem 
of  all,  he  did  not  a  little  honour  that  degree  which  is 
then  given,  of  which  some  are  said  to  be  so  much  the 
reproach.  And,  therefore,  he  no  sooner  came  out  of 
the  University,  but  he  was  thought  worthy  to  be  a 
master,  where  he  had  been  so  lately  a  scholar;  and,  after 
having  given  sufficient  pi"oofs  of  his  fitness,  by  teaching 
for  the  next  term  the  class  of  one  who  was  occasional- 
ly absent,  he  was  accordingly  promoted:  and  even  in 
this  station,  to  him  to  live  icas  Christ.  He  was  careful 
so  to  behave  himself  in  his  own  conversation,  and  in  the 
exercises  of  that  office,  as  to  preserve  his  own  con- 
science pure,  and  void  of  offence,  and  to  serve  the  in- 
terests of  Christianity;  training  up  the  youth  in  such 
principles  of  learning  and  goodness,  as  might  make 
them  most  serviceable  both  to  church  and  state.  He 
was  careful  not  to  drive  on  little  designs,  or  maintain 
factions  and  heats  in  the  society,  but  studied  always  to 
compose  them;  and  when  it  would  not  do,  they  were 
his  regret;  but  he  was  sure  not  to  make  one  of  them. 
He  always  preserved  his  authority  entire  amongst  the 
unruly  youth,  and  would  quickly  compose  their  disor- 
ders and  tumults,  and  yet  gain  their  love  and  esteem; 
and  knew  well  how  to  entertain  them  with  freedom  and 
kindness,  and  yet  oblige  them  to  that  respect  that  be- 
comes a  scholar  towards  his  master.  So  far  was  he 
from  designing  his  own  private  gain,  that  when  a  tumult 
had  arisen  among  the  unruly  youth,  in  which  there 
w^ere  some  under  his  care  who  could  easily  have  pur- 
chased their  pardon  by  the  payment  of  an  inconsidera- 
ble mulct,  and  the  assurance  of  their  good  behaviour 
afterwards:  and  when  such  was  their  perverseness  that 
they  would  not  do  it,  though  his  paying  it  in  their  name 
would  have  finished  the  business;  yet,  rather  than  do 


OF   MR.  HEIGHT   SCOUGAL.  239 

such  a  seemingly  unworthy  act,  which  might  prostitute 
authority.,  and  encourage  them  to  Hke  tumultuous  prac- 
tices, he  suffered  them  to  be  expelled,  to  his  own  con- 
siderable detriment,  as  to  his  worldly  interests,  having 
but  a  few  left  behind.  He  was  careful  to  instract  the 
youth  in  the  most  intelligible  and  useful  principles  of 
human  knowledge.  And  it  deserA^es  to  be  remembered, 
that  he  was  the  first  in  this  corner  of  the  land  (perhaps 
in  the  whole  nation)  who  taught  the  youth  that  philos- 
ophy, which  is  now  the  universal  preference  by  all  the 
knowing  world.  He  looked  upon  it  as  the  most  proper 
for  framing  their  judgments,  and  disposing  them  to  con- 
ceive things  aright;  for  taking  them  off  from  a  disputing 
humour,  and  a  vanity  in  hard  words  and  distinctions^ 
and  in  thinking  they  knew  something,  when  they  knew 
nothing.  He  thought  it  served  to  enlarge  and  raise  their 
apprehensions  of  Almighty  God,  by  considering  the 
vastness  of  his  works,  and  the  admirable  wisdom  and 
goodness  that  appeared  in  the  order  of  the  world,  and 
the  wonderful  contrivance  even  of  the  most  minute 
creature;  that  it  disposed  them  to  consider  the  nature 
and  worth  of  their  inmiortal  souls,  and  of  what  small 
moment  all  the  sensual  pleasures  of  this  lower  world 
were;  and  that  it  inclined  them  to  a  more  universal  love 
and  good-will  towards  all,  and  to  meaner  thoughts  of 
themselves  and  their  knowledge.  He  was  very  careful 
to  train  them  up  in  the  best  and  most  useful  principles 
of  morality,  and  to  guard  them  against  the  debauched 
sentiments  of  Leviathan.  And  as  he  thus  made  human 
learning  serviceable  to  the  ends  of  piety  and  religion, 
so  he  made  it  his  great  endeavour  to  have  their  minds 
inspired  with  this.  On  the  Lord's  day,  in  the  eveningj 
he  usually  had  some  pious  discourses  with  them,  laying 
open  the  folly  and  heinousness  of  vice  and  impiety,  and 
the  excellency  and  advantage  of  religion  and  goodness; 
and  such  other  considerations  as  might  both  instruct  their 
minds,  and  gain  upon  their  tempers.  And  he  failed  not 
to  deal  with  each  of  them  apart  in  private.  Those  who 
were  of  bad  inclinations,  he  studied  to  reform  and 
amend;  and  in  whom  he  saw  any  appearance  of  good- 


240  A    SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAL 

ness,  he  was  careful  to  encourage  and  cherish  thorn. 
Thus  he  bath  made  appear,  by  his  practice,  that  phi- 
losophy and  religion  are  not  enemies  to  one  another; 
but  that  the  sober  and  discreet  use  of  our  reason  makes 
us  more  capable  of  the  truths  and  graces  of  our  reli- 
gion. 

But  God  had  designed  him  for  the  more  immediate 
service  of  his  church,  unto  which  he  had  been  devoted 
from  the  womb.  And  therefore,  by  the  counsel  of 
some  serious  and  reverend  persons  in  the  church,  whose 
advices  were  of  great  weight  with  him,  he  was  called 
forth  to  preach  the  gospel,  and  a  little  while  after  en- 
tered into  holy  orders,  and  was  employed,  as  you  know 
in  the  office  of  the  ministry,  in  the  country;  where, 
though  his  stay  was  so  short,  yet  the  proofs  that  he 
gave  both  of  his  fitness  for,  and  zeal  m,  that  holy  func- 
tion, were  singular.  He  found  he  had  now  more  obli- 
gations lying  on  him  for  piety  and  innocence  of  life: 
and,  as  the  ambassador  of  his  blessed  master,  he  must 
be  very  tender  of  his  honour,  and  of  persuading  those 
he  was  sent  unto,  to  be  reconciled  to  God:  and  therefore 
he  was  careful  to  shun  even  all  appearances  of  evil.  He 
studied,  during  his  short  stay,  by  catechising,  to  instruct 
his  people,  with  the  greatest  plainness  and  affection,  ii> 
the  right  sense  and  knowledge  of  religion  and  their  duty;' 
and  to  show  them  the  folly  and  unreasonableness  of 
those  shifts  and  pretences  whereby  they  encouraged 
themselves  in  a  bad  life.  He  endeavoured  to  understand 
their  tempers,  and  accordingly  to  apply  himself  to  them^ 
He  was  deeply  sensible  of  the  little  sense  of  religion 
that  generally  appeared:  and  when  he  saw  any  spark 
of  goodness,  how  strangely  was  he  cheered  with  it! 
He  more  valued  the  humble  innocence,  and  cheerful 
contentment  and  resignation  of  one  poor  woman  in  that 
place,  than  all  the  more  goodly  appearances  of  others, 
having  oft  in  his  mouth,  Indocti  cashan  rtepiunt; 
He  endeavoured  to  bring  them  to  a  devout  and  constant 
attendance  on  the  public  worship;  where  be  always 
went,  and  joined  with  them  at  the  beginning  of  it;  think- 
ing it  very  unfit,   that  the  invocation  of  Almighty  God, 


OF    MR.    HENRY    SCOIJGAL,  241 

the  reading  of  some  portions  of  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
making  a  cocifession  of  our  Christian  faith,  and  rehears- 
Lig  the  ten  commandments,  should  be  looked  upon 
only  as  a  preludium  for  ushering  in  the  people  to  the 
church,  and  the  minister  to  the  pulpit.  His  sermons 
were  always  devout  and  serious,  and  seasonable;  and 
he  endeavoured  to  fit  them  to  the  capacities  of  the  peo- 
ple: and  he  revived  the  use  of  the  lectures,  looking  on 
it  as  the  most  edifying  Wray,  to  have  (as  a  great  light  of 
litis  nation  used  to  say)  long  texts  and  short  sermons. 
Birt  I  must  not  so  slightly  pass  over  his  preaching, 
in  which  we  are  all  so  much  concerned.  A  wise  man 
hath  lately  written  an  essay,  how  to  make  a  good  use 
of  bad  sermons:  and  it  were  to  be  wished  we  were  in- 
structed in  making  good  ones,  such  I  mean,  as  might 
have  an  influence  on  men's  hearts  and  lives.  And  sure 
I  think  all  that  heard  him  will  acknowledge  his  practice 
to  be  no  contemptible  pattern.  He  thought  it  should  be 
a  minister's  care  to  choose  seasonable  and  useful  sub- 
jects, such  as  might  instnict  the  people's  minds,  and 
better  their  lives;  not  to  entertain  them  with  debates, 
and  strifes  of  words;  that  he  should  express  himself  in 
the  most  plain  and  affectionate  manner;  not  in  airy  and 
fanciful  words,  nor  in  words  too  big  with  sense,  and 
having  a  great  many  thoughts  crowded  together,  which 
the  people's  understanding  cannot  reach;  nor  in  philo- 
sophical terms  and  expressions,  which  are  not  familiar 
to  vulgar  understanding;  nor  in  making  use  of  an  unusual 
word,  where  there  could  be  found  one  more  plain  and 
ordinary  to  express  the  thought  as  fully.  He  looked 
upon  it  as  a  most  useful  help  for  composing  sermons,  to 
make  the  Sunday's  sermon  the  subject  of  our  meditation 
and  mental  prayer  for  the  foregoing  week,  that  it  may 
thereby  sink  deep  into  our  spirits,  and  afl'ect  our  own 
hearts,  which  would  make  us  more  capable  of  teaching 
others.  He  thought  it  a  fk  expedient  for  composing  us 
to  a  serious  and  affectionate  preaching,  to  propose  to 
ourselves,  in  the  meditation  of  it,  purely  the  glory  of 
God,  and  the  good  of  men's  souls,  and  to  have  this  al- 
ways in  our  eye;  and,  in  our  preaching,  to  make  frequent 


242  A   SERMON   AT   THE   FUNERAl. 

collections  of  the  divine  presence,  and  short  ejaculationa 
towards  heaven;  thereby  to  preserve  us  in  that  humble 
temper,  that  seriousness  and  gravity,  that  becomes  us  in 
the  presence  of  God,  and  as  the  ambassadors  of  Christ. 
And  how  conformable  was  his  practice  to  these  rules! 
The  matter  of  his  discourses  was  always  so  useful  and 
seasonable;  his  words  and  expressions  so  plain,  and  pro- 
per, and  well  chosen;  his  deportment  so  grave  and  un- 
affected, becoming  the  sense  of  whose  amba^ador  ho 
was;  his  manner  of  utterance  so  affectionate,  and  expres- 
sive of  the  passionate  love  and  concern  he  had  for  men's 
souls,  accompanied  with  such  an  act  of  sweetness  and 
mildness,  as  charmed  men's  spirits.  And  all  was  so  full 
of  light  and  heat,  that  I  think  I  may  say,  in  the  words 
of  the  disciples  concealing  our  blessed  Saviour:  Did  not 
our  hearts  burn  within  us,  while  he  opened  unto  us  the 
Scriptures?  How  did  the  Holy  Spirit,  by  him,  enlighten 
our  minds,  and  affect  our  hearts?  There  are  some  kinds 
of  words  and  expressions  some  tones  and  ways  of  ut- 
terance, which  will  raise  the  passions  and  affections  of 
predisposed  tempers,  without  at  all  enlightening  their 
minds, — even  as  music  does.  And  there  are  others 
capable  of  laying  open  the  nature  and  reason  of  things, 
but  in  so  dry  a  manner,  that  they  float  merely  upon  our 
understanding  as  matter  of  speculation  and  talk,  and  do 
not  sink  into  our  hearts.  And  though  there  be  much 
noise,  now-a-days,  about  the  methods  of  preaching,  and 
the  preferences  of  one  to  another;  yet  it  is  in  this,  I  am 
afraid,  that  we  lose  ourselves  on  both  sides.  But  in 
this,  sure,  I  may  appeal  to  all  that  heard  him,  whether 
his  discourses,  and  his  manner  of  uttering  them,  did  not 
serve  at  once  both  to  enlighten  their  minds,  and  warm 
their  hearts?  And  so  tender  was  he  of  the  honour  and 
reputation  due  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  that  as  he 
was  careful,  on  the  one  hand,  to  express  himself  in  the 
most  plain,  intelligible,  and  affectionate  words;  so,  also, 
on  the  other,  to  avoid  all  childish  metaphors,  apish  ges- 
tures, jest,  and  big  words,  and  other  such  indecencies 
as  did  not  become  the  gravity  of  the  function,  and  were 
apt  to  occasion  the  smiles  and  laughter  of  the  profane, 


OF  MR.  HENRY   SCOUGAL.  243 

rather  than  the  piety  of  the  serious.  And  I  dare  say,  the 
most  profane  scoffers  of  the  nation  were  never  tempt- 
ed to  turn  his  expressions  or  gestures  into  ridicule. 
Nay,  many  of  avowedly  profligate  lives,  have  been  ex- 
tremely affected  by  his  sermons,  which  pricked  them  to 
their  hearts,  he  laid  them  so  open  to  themselves,  and 
made  them  so  sensible  of  their  bnitishness  and  danger,  as 
they  themseJves  have  acknowledged. 

I  cannot  here  omit  the  deep  sense  he  had  of  true  elo- 
quence, and  his  high  value  for  it;  professing  he  would 
exchange  for  it  all  the  other  human  learning  he  was 
master  of.  He  was  sensible  of  the  little  knowledge  he 
had  in  the  ars  voluntatis;  how  little  we  understood 
of  the  nature  of  men's  passions  and  inclinations,  and 
what  things  were  most  capable  of  bending  their  wills, 
and  prevailing  upon  their  minds,  according  to  their 
different  tempers.  And  accordingly  he  judged  there 
were  two  essential  defects  in  our  best  kind  of  eloquence. 
The  one  was,  that  in  the  meditating  our  discourses,  we 
rather  merely  considered  the  issues  of  our  reason,  and  the 
nature  of  the  things  we  were  thinking  of,  and  did  not  so 
much  reflect  upon  the  temper  of  the  persons  we  were  to 
speak  to,  and  what  kind  of  reasoning,  words  and  expres- 
sions, would  make  the  best  impression  upon  their  minds; 
and  therefore  it  was  nothing  strange,  that  words  let  fly 
at  random  touched  them  so  little.  The  other,  that  our 
hearts  were  not  thoroughly  endued  with  those  disposi- 
tions we  would  work  on  others  by  our  words;  and  there- 
fore it  was  no  wonder  all  we  said  made  so  little  impres- 
sion on  them. 

But  ]  come  now  to  the  last  stage  and  period  of  his 
life,  wherein  it  most  eminently  appeared  that  to  him  t€- 
live  was  Christ.  God  had  designed  him  for  a  more  uni- 
versal use  and  service  in  his  church;  and  therefore,  by 
the  wise  providence  of  the  Almighty,  he  is  removed  from 
a  private  charge  in  the  country,  to  a  more  general  one, 
of  training  up  the  youth  for  the  holy  ministry,  and  the 
care  of  men's  souls.  Promotions  of  this  nature,  espe- 
cially when  they  are  made  by  the  votes  of  many,  are 
iisually  attended  with  little  factions,  combinations,  and 


244  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAI. 

heats;  but,  as  the  purchase  was  none  of  his  design,  so, 
the  general  sense  of  his  worth  and  goodness  gave  him 
the  unanimous  voice  of  the  clergy  of  this  diocese,  (who 
promote  to  that  station,)  and  the  universal  approbation 
of  all  that  knew  him:  and  the  apprehension  he  had  of 
the  weight  and  importance  of  that  office,  and  his  mean 
thought  of  himself,  made  him  deliberate  about  it  till 
their  next  meeting.  Indeed,  both  his  natural,  acquired, 
and  moral  endowments,  made  him  be  judged  by  all, 
worthy  of  this  charge.  His  memory  was  singular;  and 
though  he  loved  more  to  study  things  than  words,  yet, 
for  instance,  in  a  few  days  time,  he  learned  to  under- 
stand one  of  our  Western  languages,  and  could  read  it, 
in  English,  with  more  readiness  than  those  who  had  lived 
many  years  where  it  is  spoken.  As  to  things  of  impor- 
tance, he  could  soon  give  them  a  lasting  impression  on 
his  mind ;  though,  at  length,  he  gave  over  the  commit- 
ting public  discourses  to  his  memory,  professing,  when 
he  went  about  it,  he  was  ashamed  to  see  himself  at  such 
a  childish  exercise.  His  understanding  was  ready,  clear, 
and  piercing;  and  he  would  quickly  see  through  things 
in  civil  affairs,  as  well  as  in  matters  of  learning.  He 
did  not  so  much  read  books,  as  think  them:  and,  by  a 
transient  view,  would  quickly  comprehend  the  design 
and  marrow  of  them.  He  had  not  spent  his  whole 
time  in  reading,  being  sensible  that  it  often  served  to 
dull,  confuse,  and  prejudicate  men's  understandings, 
and  make  them  of  imperious  and  dictating  tempers:  and 
therefore  he  made  a  prudent  mixture,  of  a  moderate 
reading,  a  choice  of  useful  books,  and  consulting  the  liv- 
ing, as  well  as  the  dead,  having  a  singular  art  of  benefit- 
ing both  himself  and  others,  by  conversation  and  dis- 
course; and  he  digested  and  improved  all,  by  retired 
meditations  and  fervent  devotion:  so  that  his  learning 
seemed  rather  the  issues  of  his  mind,  and  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  Almighty,  which  teacheth  knowledge.  He 
employed  two  summers  in  going  to  a  neighbouring  na- 
tion, in  which  he  made  it  his  bu.siness  to  converse  with 
those  who  were  of  greatest  reputation  for  learning  and 
goodness;  where,  as  he  gained  their  singular  esteem  and 


OF  MR.  HENRY    SCOUGAL.  245 

good  thoughts,  so  by  useful  conversation,  and  a  serious 
observation  of  tempers  and  things,  he  improved  his 
mind  in  knowledge.  But,  indeed,  we  may  look  upon 
his  excellent  endowments  as  the  reward  of  the  pious 
dispositions  of  his  soul,  and  of  the  good  designs  he  pro- 
posed to  himself  in  all  his  studies  and  endeavours.  And 
God  knows,  in  the  undertaking  this  oihce,  there  was 
nothing  he  had  more  before  his  eyes,  than  the  service  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  good  of  his  church.  He  was 
deeply  sensible  of  the  great  weight  and  importance  of 
the  holy  ministry,  and  did  much  bewail  the  general  fail- 
ing in  the  exercise  of  it ;  how  every  man  minded  his  own 
things,  and  not  the  things  of  Jesus  Christ.  And  there- 
fore he  made  this  the  one  great  design  of  all  his  endeav- 
ours in  that  charge,  the  fitting  and  training  up  the  youth 
for  that  holy  function;  and  this  was  the  great  aim  both 
of  his  public  and  private  care  of  them. 

He  considered  that  they  ought  chiefly  to  mind  and  fit 
themselves  now,  for  that  which  would  be  their  great 
business  when  they  were  entered  into  the  holy  function ; 
and  that  this  would  not  be  so  much  the  managing  of  con- 
troversies and  debates  of  religion,  as  the  guiding  men's 
souls  to  eternity;  the  rescuing  the  vicious  from  their  sins 
and  vices,  and  prevailing  upon  them,  by  all  prudent 
methods;  and  directing  the  serious  to  the  true  practice 
and  exercise  of  religion,  and  the  most  proper  means  for 
the  practice  of  goodness,  and  the  avoiding  and  resisting 
of  temptations,  and  how  they  ought  to  behave  them- 
selves in  all  circumstances  of  life.  He  thought  it  suffi- 
cient that  they  understood  the  state  and  importance  of 
those  controversies  and  differences  which  were  the 
grounds  of  the  divisions  of  Christendom,  for  their  own 
instruction,  and  those  who  stood  in  need  of  it,  under 
their  care;  but  the  other  he  looked  upon  as  their  main 
business.  And  therefore,  accordingly,  after  he  had 
guarded  them  against  the  comm.on  artifices  of  the  Ro- 
man missionaries,  in  their  making  proselytes,  and  clear- 
ed the  most  important  difficulties  in  the  gospels,  he 
proposed  two  designs  as  the  subject  of  all  his  public  exer- 
cises: the  one,  de  cura  pastorali,  proposing  to  consid- 
21* 


246  A  SERMON  AT  THE   FtTNERAL 

er  the  institution  and  dignity,  the  weight  and  difficulty, 
the  necessity  and  usefulness,  of  the  holy  function  of  the 
ministry;  the  nature  of  that  call  we  ought  to  have  to  it, 
the  necessary  dispositions  that  are  required  to  fit  us  for 
it,  the  manner  of  our  own  private  life  and  conversation 
in  it,  and  how  we  ought  to  discharge  the  several  exer- 
cises of  it,  both  public  and  private.  The  other,  the  in- 
structing them  in  casuistical  divinity;  the  considering 
how  a  man  of  a  strait  conscience  ought  to  behave  him- 
self, in  whatever  state  or  condition  of  life  he  be,  and 
whatever  cases  and  circumstances  he  fall  into;  and  the 
branching  out  this  into  particulars,  and  vindicating  it 
from  the  corruption  of  the  Jesuits,  and  others.  So 
great  and  good  were  the  designs  he  proposed  unto  him- 
self. As  to  matters  of  controversy,  he  studied  rather  to 
lessen  than  multiply;  and  saw  that  men  were  apter  to 
be  reasoned  out  of  their  erroneous  persuasions  by  a  good 
life,  than  many  arguments.  He  thought  it  enough  to 
make  the  youth  understand  the  tnie  state  of  matters  in 
debate,  and  to  consider  the  most  weighty  differences:  but 
he  was  careful  to  take  them  off,  as  much  as  possible, 
from  the  disputing  humour,  and  an  itch  of  wrangling, 
pro  and  con  about  any  thing;  and  many  times,  by  si- 
lence, answering  their  impertinent  quibbles.  There 
were  no  debates  he  was  more  cautious  to  meddle  with 
than  those  about  the  decrees  of  God;  being  sensible 
how  much  Christianity  had  suffered  by  men's  diving 
into  things  beyond  their  reach;  secret  things  belonging 
to  the  Lord,  and  things  revealed  to  us  and  our  children. 
But  he  had  always  a  deep  sense  of  the  powerful  efficacy 
of  God's  grace  upon  our  souls;  and  that  all  our  good 
was  entirely  to  be  ascribed  to  God,  and  all  our  evil  to 
ourselves.  He  used,  onoe  a  year,  (when  the  youth 
were  most  frequent,)  by  a  very  serious  and  affectionate 
discourse  in  English,  to  lay  before  them  the  weight  and 
importance  of  the  ministry;  how  they  should  demean 
themselves  now,  while  they  were  candidates  for  that 
holy  function;  how  carefully  they  ought  to  avoid  all  such 
evil  conversation  as  might  give  their  minds  a  bad  tinc- 
ture; what  course  of  study  they  ought  to  take;  inviting 


OF   MR.   HENRY   SCOUGAL.  247 

them  to  a  private  resort  unto  him,  and  expressing  a 
most  affectionate  concern  for  them. 

It  was  also  his  great  care,  to  make  his  private  con- 
versation vi'ith  them  as  useful  as  his  public.  And  by 
this,  indeed,  he  hoped  to  do  most  good.  They  had  al- 
ways free  access  to  him;  and  his  counsels  and  advices 
were  still  suited  to  the  dispositions  he  perceived  in  them. 
He  could  so  modestly  and  prudently  tell  them  their 
failings,  as  to  make  them  perceive  and  amend  them 
without  being  offended.  He  was  careful  to  lend,  and 
direct  them  to  the  use  of,  good  books,  and,  indeed,  one 
of  the  great  ends  of  his  buying  so  many,  was  to  serve 
them.  Those  who  were  of  the  most  eminent  endow- 
ments, and  best  inclinations,  he  stirred  up  to  serious 
thoughts  of  the  holy  ministry.  He  gave  them  the  most 
undoubted  proofs  of  his  love  and  care  of  them,  opened 
his  heart  freely  to  them,  and  learned  their  inclinations 
and  studies.  He  directed  them  to  the  best  means  of 
bettering  their  hearts,  as  well  as  informing  their  judg- 
ments; prayer,  meditation,  and  frequent  retirements:  and 
made  them  sensible,  that  self-will  was  the  root  of  all  our 
sins;  and  an  entire  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  the 
very  spring  of  all  our  duty ;  and  directed  them  to  frequent 
and  constant  acts  of  self-denial  and  resignation.  And 
as  he  was  thus  careful  to  his  charge,  so  also  of  main- 
taining that  entire  correspondence  with,  and  due  defer- 
ence and  respect  that  he  owed  towards  his  reverend  col- 
league: and  that  entire  and  constant  love  and  harmony 
between  them,  and  that  mutual  deserved  esteem  they 
had  for  one  another,  was  very  singular  and  very  exem- 
plary. 

Thus,  to  him  to  live  was  Christ.  Thus  faithfully  and 
prudently  did  our  dear  friend  manage  his  charge  in  serv- 
ing the  interest  of  his  blessed  master.  And  we  might 
have  hoped  confidently,  ere  long,  that  by  their  joint  en- 
deavors, through  the  blessing  of  the  Almighty,  we  should 
have  seen  another  face  on  our  church.  But,  amidst  all 
his  pious  designs  and  cares,  he  is  called  by  his  great 
master,  in  an  hour  that  we  thought  not  of,  from  his 
stewardship  here,  to  an  higher  employment  in  the  other 


248  A  SERMON  AT  THE   FUKEKAI. 

world.  Who  is  that  faithful  and  wise  steward,  whom 
his  Lord  makes  ruler  over  his  household,  to  give  them 
their  portion  of  meat  in  due  season?  Blessed  is  that  ser- 
vant whom  his  Lord,  when  he  cometh,  shall  find  so 
doing;  of  a  truth  he  will  make  him  ruler  over  all  that 
he  hath. 

Indeed,  the  end  of  his  life  was  no  less  Christ's,  than 
the  begimiing  and  whole  course  of  it.  The  time  of  his 
sickness  was  as  cheerfully  spent  in  suffering  tlie  will  of 
God,  as  the  former  was  in  doing  it.  He  manifested  the 
greatest  meekness  and  cheerfulness  of  spirit  throughout 
the  whole  course  of  it.  He  used  not  the  least  harsh 
expression,  either  to  any  of  those  that  waited  upon  him, 
or  concerning  the  present  providence.  He  expressed 
a  perfect  indiflerency  as  to  life  and  death,  and  an  entire 
resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  to  dispose  of  him  as  he 
thought  meet.  He  found  himself  never  more  sensible 
of  the  vanity  of  this  world,  nor  ever  felt  more  ardent 
acts  of  love  to  God,  than  at  that  time.  He  was  rapt 
in  admiration  of  God's  goodness  to  him,  and  the  little 
returns  he  said  he  had  made  to  it;  and  acknowledged  his 
own  great  unworthiness,  and  his  humble  confidence  in 
the  mercy  and  goodness  of  God,  through  the  merits 
of  his  blessed  Saviour.  And  thus  meekly  did  he  pass 
his  sickness,  and  resign  his  spirit,  without  any  trouble 
from  the  world,  or  great  pain  of  body,  or  any  anguish 
of  mind:  for,  mark  the  perfect  man,  and  behold  the  up- 
right; for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace. 

And  now,  after  all,  I  cannot  here  omit  what  service 
he  hath  done  the  world,  by  permitting  it  to  enjoy  those 
excellent  thoughts  of  his  about  the  life  of  God  in  the 
soul  of  man.  Men  may  write  big  volumes,  and,  as  one 
says,  talk  much  and  say  nothing;  but  it  is  a  great  matter 
to  talk  little,  and  yet  say  much.  And,  sure,  whoever 
considers  the  importance  of  the  matter  of  that  book,  the 
clear  representation  of  the  life  and  spirit  of  true  reli- 
gion and  its  graces,  with  the  great  excellency  and  ad- 
vantages of  it,  the  proposal  of  the  most  effectual  means 
for  attaining  to  it  by  the  grace  of  God,  the  piety  and 
seasonableness  of  the  devotions,  together  with  the  nat- 


or  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAL.  249 

aral  and  affectionate  eloquence  of  the  style, —  cannot  but 
be  sensible  of  its  great  usefulnevss  to  inspire  us  with  the 
spirit  of  true  religion,  to  enlighten  our  minds  with  a 
right  sense  and  knowledge  of  it,  to  warm  our  hearts 
with  suitable  affections  and  breathings  after  it,  and  to 
direct  our  lives  to  the  practice  of  it.  And,  indeed,  it 
seems  to  have  been,  in  a  great  measure,  the  transcript 
of  his  own  life  and  spirit.  Those  divine  graces  and 
virtues  which  he  so  cleariy  describes,  shined  forth  ia 
his  own  life  and  conversation;  and  he  not  only  under- 
stood, but  felt  them.  That  faith,  and  love,  and  charity, 
that  purity  and  humility,  which  he  so  passionately 
recommends  and  speaks  of,  did  eminently  appear 
throughout  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 

What  a  deep  sense  had  he  of  the  traths  of  our  reli- 
gion !  He  suffered  them  not  to  float  on  his  understand- 
ing, to  be  matter  of  talk  and  dispute  with  others;  but 
he  let  them  sink  deep  into  his  spirit,  to  renew  his  soul, 
and  direct  his  life,  and  was  careful  to  make  use  of  all 
means  that  might  give  him  a  deeper  sense  of  them. 
What  a  deep  sense  had  he  of  the  goodness  of  God;  the 
wonderful  mercy  of  our  redemption  by  Jesus  Christ; 
the  cormption,  the  degeneracy,  and  sinfulness  of  our 
nature,  the  excellency  of  goodness,  and  the  happiness 
of  heaven?  And  his  deep  sense  of  all  this,  was  the 
spring  and  root  of  all  his  other  graces. 

In  how  manifold  instances  did  appear  the  ardency  of 
his  love  to  God?  He  was  still  breathing  with  more  ar- 
dent desires  after  him,  and  was  sorry  he  could  love  him 
no  more.  He  was  frequently  admiring  his  wisdom  and 
goodness  in  the  government  of  the  world,  and  the  wise 
disposal  of  things.  It  was  not  the  mean  principles  of 
custom,  reputation  or  vain-glory,  or  a  servile  fear,  that 
made  him  carefully  avoid  all  evil  in  his  practices,  but 
the  ardency  of  his  love  to  his  heavenly  Father;  and 
therefore  his  life  was  so  uniform  and  constant  to  itself, 
and  carefully  employed  in  doing  all  the  good  he  could, 
and  any  thing  whereby  God  might  be  glorified:  and  he 
was  still  sensible  how  little  he  could  do  worthy  of  hrs 
love.     His  own  inclinations  were  correspondent  to  the 


250  A  SERMON  AT   THE   FUNERAL 

resolutions  of  his  pious  father,  from  his  childhood;  and 
he  had  devoted  himself  for  the  service  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
the  ministry.  Those  in  whom  he  observed  virtuous  en- 
dowments, and  the  most  pious  inclinations,  he  encour- 
aged, by  all  means,  to  the  service  of  God  in  the  holy 
function.  He  endeavoured,  always,  after  an  absolute 
resignation  of  his  will  to  him,  looking  upon  this  as  the 
very  life  of  all  graces.  He  was  very  observing  of  the 
various  passages  of  his  providence  towards  him,  and 
very  sensible  of  his  goodness  in  crossing  some  designs 
>vhich  he  afterwards  saw  would  have  been  inconve- 
nient for  him.  He  was  careful  to  observe  all  the  steps 
of  Providence;  and,  when  they  seemed  not  to  approve 
of  his  intentions,  how  eager  soever  his  desires  had  been, 
he  was  sure  not  to  go  one  step  farther.  He  was  ardent 
and  constant  in  his  devotion  towards  God.  His  piety 
and  zeal  was  very  eminent  in  the  public  worship,  when 
he  was  the  mouth  of  the  people;  his  devotion  was  so 
raised,  and  the  humble  fervour  and  seriousness  of  his 
spirit  so  visible,  as  did  highly  inflame  the  devotion  of 
the  serious:  and,  when  he  made  one  of  them,  the  hu- 
mility and  adoration  of  his  soul  did  appear  in  his  out- 
ward behaviour;  and  he  thought  it  one  suitable  expres- 
sion of  it,  to  bow  the  knee  before  that  Majesty  before 
whom  the  angels  tremble.  In  the  celebration  and  re- 
ceiving of  the  Holy  Communion,  his  soul  seemed  to 
be  wholly  swallowed  up  in  the  contemplation  of  Jesus 
Christ;  and  his  devotions  were  the  admiration  of  all  that 
saw  him.  He  had  been  constant  in  his  private  prayers 
to  God  from  his  childhood;  and  that  great  secret  of  de- 
votion which  he  recommends  in  his  book,  was  his  fre- 
quent practice:  and  he  sent  up,  sometimes,  such  aspira- 
tions of  love,  with  such  ardent  sighs  and  groanings, 
and  heavings  of  his  spirit,  as,  perhaps,  unclogged  his 
spirit,  and  made  his  soul  lake  its  flight  so  soon  from 
this  earthly  tabernacle. 

And,  sure,  a  soul  so  much  inflamed  with  the  love  of 
God,  could  not  be  wanting  in  a  suitable  charity  towards 
men:  and,  indeed,  to  this  his  very  natural  temper  seem- 
ed to  incline  him.     There  was  nothing  of  harshness  hx 


OF  MR.   HENRY  SCOUGAL»  251 

the  disposition  of  his  spirit ;  but  it  was  full  of  swe-etness 
and  love,  whic-h  appeared  in  his  very  air  and  counte- 
nance, and  was  apt  to  attract  men's  hearts  at  the  first 
sight;  and  this  happy  disposition  was  hallowed  and  rais- 
ed, by  the  love  of  Ciod,  into  a  holy  charity.  His  soul  was 
as  wide  as  the  world,  and  his  love  and  good  will  were 
universal,  and  every  man  the  object  of  them.  His 
prayers  and  good  wishes  were  extended  to  all  men;  and 
all  the  harm  he  could  do  his  enemies,  (if  there  were 
any  such  universal  haters  of  mankind  as  to  do  him  bad  of- 
fices,) was,  to  pray  for  them  the  more  earnestly  to  God. 
He  did  not  confine  his  charity  within  a  sect  or  party, 
but  loved  goodness  wherever  he  found  it;  and  entertain- 
ed no  harsh  thoughts  of  men,  merely  upon  their  differ- 
ing from  him  in  this  or  that  opinion.  He  was  grieved 
at  the  distractions  and  divisions  of  the  church;  and  that 
religion,  the  bond  of  love,  should  be  made  so  mnich  the 
bone  of  contention. 

What  prudent  methods  would  his  sincere  love  and 
charity  to  others  prompt  him  to,  to  undeceive  them  in 
their  errors?  How  meekly  would  he  discourse  with  them 
about  their  differences?  calmly  showing  the  small  im- 
portance of  some  things,  not  worth  the  contending  for, 
and  making  appear  the  bad  influence  that  other  things 
had,  as  to  holiness  and  a  good  life;  and  yielding  in. 
others,  again,  that  were  not  contrary  to  the  designs  of 
religion;  making  them  sensible  of  the  sincerity  of  his 
soul,  and  his  hearty  good-will  to  them.  He  was  far 
from  maintaining  a  difference  upon  the  account  of  stout- 
ness of  humour,  or  keeping  up  the  reputation  of  a  sect 
or  party,  being  desirous  v^e  should  all  be  united  in  the 
general  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  studying  to  make 
friends,  and  unite  the  hearts  of  those  who  had  been  divid- 
ed by  names  and  parties:  and  thus,  if  at  first  he  did  not 
prevail  over  men's  prejudices,  yet  he  failed  not  to  gain 
their  hearts;  and  so,  by  degrees,  made  way  for  his  sea- 
sonable discourses.  And  O  what  holy  charms  and  pious 
arts  had  he  to  catch  men's  souls,  and  to  make  them  pur- 
sue their  own  happiness!  A  charity  which  he  thought 
far  superior  to  any  that  could  be  done  for  the  body. 


252  A   SERMON  AT  TTTE   FUiVERAl, 

(though  he  was  eminent  in  that  kind  also,)  and  of 
which  he  would  speak  with  the  greatest  concern  and 
emotion  of  spirit.  How  many  arts  had  he  to  better 
them,  and  make  them  good  and  happy?  His  love  made 
htm  always  as  intent  upon  this,  as  the  love  of  money  will 
make  the  covetous  man  bend  all  his  thoughts  and  designs 
to  add  to  his  treasure.  How  would  he  take  advantage, 
from  every  thing,  to  make  all  things  work  together  for 
their  good?  He  seemed  to  be  the  visible  spring  that  put 
all  good  designs  in  motion,  for  bettering  the  state  of  our 
church.  He  was  the  genius  that  put  life  and  spirit  into 
the  serious  studies  and  pious  endeavours  of  those  ho 
conversed  with.  How  careful  was  he  to  propagate, 
every  where,  right  apprehensions  of  religion?  and  what 
a  visible  influence  had  he  among  us  in  this  matter? 
What  wise  methods  had  he  to  make  his  friends  sensible 
of  their  infu-mities  and  failings,  by  speaking  to  them  of 
his  own?  and  to  stir  them  up  to  zeal  and  diligence  in 
piety  in  good  works,  and  to  the  use  of  the  most  effect- 
ual means  of  purifying  their  souls,  by  telling  them  in- 
stances of  the  piety  and  lives  of  others  of  his  acquaint- 
ances? He  was  careful  even  to  make  his  ordinary  con- 
versation useful  for  this  end,  both  in  giving  the  example 
of  an  unaffected  modesty  and  meekne^^  and  dropping  in 
always  something  that  might  make  then,  more  in  love 
with  religion  and  goodness.  The  effects  of  his  love  and 
care  of  men's  souls  extended  even  to  those  who  knew 
him  not;  and  he  obliged  always  his  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances, as  there  was  occasion,  to  employ  the  inter- 
est of  their  friendship  and  familiarity  with  others,  in 
persuading  them  to  piety  and  a  good  life;  and  alluring 
them  to  Uie  reading  of  good  books,  and  such  other 
means  as  might  serve  both  to  enlighten  and  purify  them: 
and  when  he  heard  of  the  good  fruits  of  such  designs, 
how  much  would  he  be  cheered  with  it?  His  love  and 
veneration  for  good  men  was  singular  and  extraordinary; 
nothing  he  more  delighted  in,  than  their  pious  conversa- 
tion: and  he  could  so  well  represent  their  piety  and  good 
hie  to  others,  as  to  make  them  enamoured  whh  it  too. 
His   love    and   charity    were    eminent,  also,  in   the 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAL.  25S 

bounty  of  his  alms,  and  the  relief  of  the  outward  neces- 
sities of  others.  The  first  money  he  gained  being  at  the 
University,  he  was  careful  to  lay  by  a  portion  of  it  fot 
the  poor,  before  he  made  any  use  of  it  for  himself;  de- 
voting,  as  it  were,  the  first  fruits  unto  God.  And  thig 
course  he  observed  throughout  the  rest  of  his  life,  laying 
aside,  always,  a  portion  of  his  income  for  the  relief  of 
the  necessitous.  This  has  been  the  practice  of  many 
charitable  persons,  as  the  best  method  to  secure  a  stock 
for  charity;  to  make  them  give  it  with  a  liberal  and  wil- 
ling mind,  and  seek  out  fit  objects  for  it.  Were  thi^ 
practice  more  frequently  observed,  it  w^ould  undoubted- 
ly make  Christians  more  bountiful,  and  their  charity  and 
alms  more  profitable  to  themselves  and  others:  and  a 
tenth  thus  cheerfully  bestowed,  accompanied  with  the 
other  exercises  of  a  pious  life,  would,  undoubtedly,  bring 
in  its  hundred-fold  of  blessings  in  this  world,  and  in  the 
world  to  come  life  everlasting:  and,  as  he  was  careful 
thus  to  provide  for  charity  and  alms,  so,  also,  to  dispose 
of  it  aright.  He  did  not  his  alms  to  be  seen  of  men: 
many  were  relieved  by  his  bounty,  who  knew  nothing 
of  it.  He  chose  out  some  fit  persons,  both  in  the  city 
and  the  country,  who  were  acquainted  with  the  necessi- 
ties and  straits  of  poor,  modest,  honest  house-keep^ 
ers,  to  whom  he  frequently  gave  money  to  relieve  their 
wants.  And  these  were  sometimes  honest  persons  of 
different  persuasions,  who  were  relieved  in  their  straits 
they  knew  not  by  whom.  A  noble  example  of  Christian 
charity!  Blessed  be  God,  there  are  yet  some  sparks  of 
it  in  the  world.  God  grant  such  pious  examples  may 
encourage  and  stir  up  more  to  a  Christian  imitation  of 
them.  Nor  was  his  charity  so  exemplary  only  in  tlic 
liberal  dispensing  of  portions  of  his  yearly  incomes,  but, 
also,  in  such  a  prudent  disposition  of  what  the  wisdom 
of  Providence,  and  his  pious  father's  care  had  provided 
for  him  in  his  last  will  and  testament,  as  might  most 
tend  to  the  public  good  and  advantage;  as  will  in  due 
time  appear.  ' 

But,  among  the  other    expressions  of  his  love,  hia 
friendship,  sure,  deserves  a  grateful  remembrance.— _ 


254  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAL 

Friendship,  the  flower  of  society,  the  ease  of  our  griefs^ 
the  heightener  and  refiner  of  our  joys,  our  guide  and 
counsellor,  and  the  life  of  angels!  Many  have  made 
fine  pictures  of  it;  but  the  want  of  true  friendship  has 
been  generally  the  observation  and  complaint  of  all 
men.  But  O!  how  eminent  an  example  was  he,  of  sin- 
cere and  hearty  friendship?  This  was  the  darling  of  his 
soul,  and  the  delight  of  his  spirit.  He  did  not  act  it  to 
serve  little  designs,  and  private  interests;  but  he  was  full 
of  cordial  love  and  affection,  even  like  the  love  of 
Jonathan.  How  freely  would  he  open  his  heart,  and 
unbosom  his  thoughts,  and  give  faithful  counsel  to  his 
friend!  How  dear  were  his  interests  to  him,  and  how 
wisely  would  he  manage  them!  If  there  was  any 
worldly  thing  that  was  apt  to  create  grief  and  trouble  to 
him,  it  was  the  disasters,  or  bad  success  that  befell  them: 
and  their  happy  events,  would  so  refresh  and  cheer 
his  spirits,  that,  as  has-been  taken  notice  of,  it  had  even 
influence  on  his  sickly  body,  and  would  give  it  some 
greater  measure  of  health.  How  readily  would  he 
forego  his  own  interests  to  oblige  his  friend;  and  deny 
himself,  as  is  well  known  to  some,  even  in  those  designs 
and  inclinations  for  which,  usually,  we  have  a  great  con- 
cern, when  we  are  once  engaged  in  them?  So  far  was 
he  from  desiring  to  engross  the  love  and  kindness  of  his 
friends,  that  he  made  it  his  business  and  delight  to  pro- 
pagate true  friendship,  and  make  them  friends  to  one 
another:  and  in  this  he  studied  to  render  it  the  most  use- 
ful thing  in  the  world,  and  to  make  it  serve  the  great 
ends  of  piety  and  religion.  Those  in  whom  he  obser- 
ved the  spirit  of  true  piety  and  goodness,  or  any  appear- 
ance and  likelihood  of  the  one  having  influence  on,  and 
bettering  the  other's  life  and  practice,  he  endeavoured  to 
bring  thent  into  acquaintance  and  familiarity ;  to  endear 
them  to  each  other,  and  make  their  friendship  useful  for 
promoting  true  piety  and  goodness,  both  in  themselves 
and  others:  and  this,  perhaps,  is  the  most  effectual  means 
for  recovering  something  of  the  ancient  Christian  spirit 
in  the  world.  Many  methods  have  been  set  on  foot,  un- 
der pretence  of  effectuating  this  design.     In  the  Greek 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAL.  255 

anJ  Roman  churches,  men  have  formed  n-ew  societies, 
instituted  new  orders,  engaged  them  to  peculiar  vows, 
and  given  them  particular  religions,  as  they  call  them, 
subordinate  to  the  general  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  And 
among  those  whom  the  gross  corruptions  and  tyranny 
of  the  Roman  Church,  both  in  faith  and  worship,  have 
thrust  from  their  communion,  many  have  groundlessly 
separated  from  one  another,  and  formed  distinct  sects  and 
parties.  But  how  little  either  of  these  have  contributed 
to  the  promoting  of  true  piety  and  goodness,  experience 
may  make  the  world  sensible.  The  designs  of  the  for- 
mer have  ended  in  raising  the  splendour  and  revenues 
each  of  their  peculiar  order,  in  magnifying  its  rules  in 
opposition  to  others,  in  observing  their  particular  insti- 
tutions, which  become  matter  of  mere  formality  and 
custom;  having  a  show  of  humility  and  will-worship, 
but  do  not  tend  to  the  purifying  of  the  conscience:  and 
the  rest  of  the  people  are  apt  to  think  they  have  not  such 
obligations  to  piety  and  a  good  life,  as  if  the  care  of 
that  were  only  incumbent  on  those  who  had  peculiarly 
assumed  to  themselves  the  title  of  religious.  And  the 
zeal  and  endeavours  of  the  latter  are  usually  spent  in 
keeping  up  the  reputation  of  their  sect  and  party,  in  those 
things  especially  wherein  they  differ  from  others;  and 
this  ordinarily  makes  the  studies  and  designs  on  all  sides 
to  run  into  this  channel.  But  perhaps,  if,  instead  of  such 
groundless  divisions  and  schisms,  and  pretence  of  better- 
ing the  state  of  religion,  more  care  were  had  to  enter- 
tafn  and  propagate  a  holy  and  sincere  friendship,  we 
might  see  more  blessed  fruits  of  it;  whilst,  by  the  friend- 
ly communications  of  the  serious,  their  sentiments  about 
religion  would  be  mutually  cleared,  their  minds  united, 
and  they  instructed  in  the  best  means  of  purifying  their 
hearts,  inflamed  with  one  another's  zeal,  and  stirred  up 
to  spread  the  same  temper  among  others,  as  far  as  their 
influences  could  reach.  Such  an  holy  combination  (not 
to  observe  the  vows  of  any  particular  order,  or  to  divide 
from  the  rest  of  the  world,  but)  to  follow  Jesus;  to  live 
according  to  his  holy  religion,  and  to  persuade  others  vvho 
profess  it  to  a  sincere  conformity  thereunto ;  O !  how  de- 


856  A   SERMON  AT   THE   rUNERAIi 

sirable  were  it  !  It  was  thus,  metlunks,  that  the  Son  of 
Cod  did  at  first  spread  his  religion  in  the  world:  it  was 
thus  that  the  zeal  and  piety  of  his  first  followers  did  con- 
tinue it;  and  it  is  thus  that  we  must  expect  to  see  the  life 
^nd  spirit  of  it  to  breathe  once  again  amongst  us. 

And  now  I  need  not  speak  much  of  the  purity  and 
cleanness  of  his  heart,  and  his  great  unconcernedness 
for  this  present  world,  it  having  been  the  general  ob- 
servation of  all  that  knew  him.  He  looked,  indeed, 
always  as  a  stranger  and  pilgrim  in  it;  and  was  dead  to 
it  in  heart  and  spirit  long  before  his  body  had  taken 
leave  of  it.  Good  God!  what  a  deep  sense  had  he  of 
the  meanness  and  vanity  of  this  world's  hurry  and  de- 
signs, which  he  used  to  say  looked  to  him  like  the 
projects  and  scuffle  of  children  and  fools?  In  his  very 
youth  his  heart  was  clear  of  any  inclination  to  it;  and 
he  would  even  then  say  to  his  intimates,  that,  abstract- 
ing from  the  will  of  God,  mere  curiosity  would  make 
him  long  for  another  world,  it  being  a  tedious  thing  to 
see  still  the  same  dull  play  acted  over  again  here. 
What  little  regard  had  he  to  the  getting  or  keeping  of 
what  the  world  calls  wealth  and  riches?  Never  was  he 
seen  to  have  any  project  that  tended  that  way.  He 
could  scarce  expend  any  thoughts  about  his  yearly  m- 
comes,  biit  remitted  still  the  care  of  that  to  others, 
without  calling  them  to  an  account.  How  excellently 
had  he  learned  his  master's  lesson.  To  take  no  thought 
what  he  should  eat, what  he  should  drink,  or  where- 
withal he  should  be  clothed!  Never  any  thing  he  was 
more  unconcerned  in  than  this.  Whatever  was  set  be- 
fore him,  for  the  sustentation  of  his  body,  he  did  eat  of 
it,  asking  no  questions  for  appetite's  sake.  His  thoughts 
and  his  spirit  v/ere  never  taken  up  with  those  actions 
of  the  animal  life,  even  when  he  was  about  them;  and, 
while  he  supported  nature,  he  scarce  suffered  his  taste 
to  have  any  complacency  in  them.  He  thought  it 
strange  to  see  those  who  protended  to  a  Christian  tem- 
perance, exercise  such  voluptuous  pleasure  in  their 
meats,  making  them  the  subject  of  their  table-talk,  and, 
as  if  they  owned  their  bellies  for  ^heir  gods,  and  pro 


OP  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAl..  257 

fessing  they  loved  such  and  such  dishes  with  all  their 
souls.°  Alas!  that  the  weakness  and  infirmity  of  human 
nature,  by  which  we  are  levelled  with  the  beasts, 
should  become  the  matter  of  our  vanity  and  voluptuous- 
ness, instead  of  that  humble  and  abasing  sense  we 
ought  to  have  of  ourselves. 

The  innocence  and  purity  of  his  life  was  observable 
from  his  very  childhood.  He  was  never  tinctured  with 
the  least  appearances  of  those  impurities  which  are  the 
reproach  of  the  Christian  world.  How  great  an  exam- 
ple was  he  of  Christian  continence  and  celibacy  to  all 
that  knew  him?  His  very  air  and  conversation  showed 
how  much  he  was  mortified  to  the  world  in  this  respect. 
He  had  no  small  abhorrence  of  all  discourses  and  actions 
that  savoured  any  thing  of  impurity ;  and  could  not  en- 
dure the  obscene  wit  of  those  who  were  apt  to  wrest 
the  talk  of  men's  ordinary  discourse  that  way. 

As  the  pleasures  and  pomp  of  the  world  could  never 
bewitch,  so  the  hardships  and  troubles  of  it  did  never 
oppress  and  overcome  his  spirit;  but,  in  all  conditions, 
his  mind  seemed  always  equal  and  constant  to  itself. 
When  he  lived  in  the  country,  the  hardships  and  incon- 
veniences he  then  endured,  were  the  common  talk  of 
all  that  knew  him:  his  coarse  fare,  and  hard  lodging, 
and  unwonted  solitude,  the  extreme  coldness  of  the 
season,  and  the  comfortless  shelters  he  had  against  it,  did 
excite  the  compassion  of  others,  but  never  lessened  the 
quiet  and  contentedness  of  his  spirit;  and  he  suffered 
them  with  as  much  patience  as  if  he  had  been  bred  up 
from  his  infancy  in  the  Turkish  galleys.  Any  traverses 
that  befell  him  in  the  circumstances  of  his  life  and  de- 
signs, did  never  becloud  the  natural  serenity  and  cheer- 
fulness of  his  mind:  and  he  used  to  say  in  relation  to 
such  discontents,  that  as  he  blessed-  God  he  was  not 
naturally  melancholy,  so  he  thought  an  acquired  me- 
lancholy was  scandalous  in  a  clergyman. 

And  b  what  a  profound  humility  of  soul  did  shine 
forth  in  his  life  and  actions!  The  admiration  of  the 
perfections  of  the  Almighty,  in  the  contemplation  of 
which  he  was  often  taken  up,  had  sunk  him  into  tnily 
mean  thoughts  of  himself.  All  who  had  occasion  to 
22* 


258  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAI. 

converse  with  him,  were  sensible  of  the  lowliness  of  his 
mind;  and  yet  he  scarce  ever  obsers^ed  those  little  offi- 
cious ceremonies  or  compliments,  which  we  must  oft- 
times  make  use  of  to  cover  or  counteract  the  pride  of 
our  spirits,  or  which  it  prompts  us  to  traffic  with,  to 
purchase  the  regard  and  esteem  of  others.  He  disdain- 
ed not  to  converse  with  the  meanest;  and  looked  upon 
every  man  as  his  fellow  and  companion.  And  the  ex- 
emplary regard  he  had  to  young  children,  was  equally 
the  expression  of  his  humility  and  his  love.  How  ready- 
was  he,  on  all  occasions,  to  converse  with  them,  tak- 
ing a  singular  delight  in  their  harmless  innocence,  and 
usually,  after  the  example  of  the  great  master  of  love, 
affectionately  embracing  and  blessing  them?  And  such 
was  the  pious  meekness  of  his  soul  towards  others,  that 
if  at  any  time  his  natural  temper  raised  any  little  com- 
motion in  his  spirit,  (which  was  scarce  ever  taken  notice 
of  after  his  entering  into  the  holy  function,)  yet  he 
quickly  appeased  it,  and  never  suffered  the  sun  to  go 
down  upon  his  wrath.  He  was  never  seen  to  boast  of 
any  of  his  performances,  nor  yet  to  use  the  finer  and 
more  subtle  fetch  of  vain-glory,  in  an  elaborate  under- 
valuing of  tl>em,  that  others  might  commend  them.  But 
the  expressions  of  his  mean  thoughts  of  himself,  were 
always  so  natural,  and  so  full  of  simplicity,  that  one 
might  easily  observe  them  to  arise  from  the  bottom  of 
his  soul:  and  all  his  actions,  and  his  conversation,  made 
appear  the  truth  and  sincerity  of  them.  Though  his 
piety  and  innocence  were  eminent  in  the  eyes  of  all 
that  knew  him,  yet  he  had  no  small  sense  of  his  own 
unworthiness,  when  he  set  himself  in  the  light  of  God's 
countenance,  beheld  his  purity,  and  thought  on  his  infi- 
nite goodness  and  mercy  to  him  in  Jesus  Christ,  (about 
which  his  thoughts  were  frequently  taken  up.)  O  how 
deeply  was  he  humbled  under  the  sense  of  his  sinfulness 
and  ingratitude,  and  the  little  returns  he  had  made  to 
such  undeserved  goodness!  When  we  are  in  a  total 
darkness,  we  cannot  discern  one  thing  from  another; 
and  an  ordinary  light  will  discover  to  us  the  grosser  lin- 
eaments, and  more  remarkable  differences  of  things: 
but  some  beams  darted  in  from  the  sun  will  show  ua 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOTJGXL.  259 

much  impurity  and  foulness,  where  we  thought  all  to 
have  been  pure  and  clean.  And  O  with  what  seri- 
ousness and  simplicity  did  this  enlightened  soul  express 
the  sense  he  had  of  the  sinfulness  of  his  nature,  a-nd  the 
worthlessness  of  his  person!  Almost  the  very  last 
wends  he  spoke  were  to  this  purpose,  uttered  with  an 
extraordinary  devotion  of  spirit.  After  having  witness- 
ed his  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  and  his  humble 
hopes  in  his  mercy  and  goodness:  Bnt,  says  he,  when 
you  have  the  charity  to  remember  me  in  your  prayers, 
do  not  think  me  a  better  man  than  I  am;  but  look  upon 
me  as  indeed  1  am,  a  sinner.     A  most  miserable  sinner! 

0  if  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved,  where  shall  the 
wicked  and  ungodly  appear! 

But  I  forbear  to  mention  any  farther  the  graces  and 
virtues  which  shined  forth  in  the  life  and  spirit  of  our 
friend.  The  experience  which  many  of  you  have  had 
of  them  in  his  conversation,  will  furnish  you  with  a 
better  sense  of  them  than  all  I  can  say.  As  to  the 
particular  instances  I  have  given,  there  are  more  than 
one  or  two  here  present  who  can  bear  witness  to  the 
tmth  of  them:  and  I  hope  there  are  none  here  that  will 
think  me  guilty  of  so  much  impudence,  as  to  utter 
falsehoods  of  him  in  a  place  where  he  was  so  well 
known,  and  where  there  are  so  many  so  well  acquaint- 
ed with  most  of  the  important  and  private  passages  of 
his  life.     No:  I  know  you  are  sensible  how  far  short  all 

1  have  said  comes  of  his  true  worth.  He  had  need  be 
endued  with  the  same  spirit,  that  would  speak  aright  of 
him;  and  true  goodness  cannot  be  expressed,  but  feh. 

Give  me  leave  only  to  join  in  with  your  meditations, 
and  to  think  with  you  on  thp  lessons  we  may  learn 
from  the  present  dispensation,  according  to  our  different 
relations  and  circumstances. 

And  now,  good  people,  let  us  consider  his  example, 
and  our  early  loss  of  him.  O  that  we  would  once 
learn  to  be  wise,  and  to  live  like  Christians!  You  are 
all  sensible  what  an  eminent  example  he  hath  given  us; 
and,  alas!  what  hinders  that  we  should  not  be  followers 
of  him,  even  as  he  also  was  of  Christ?  How  may  we 
gee  in  him  all  our  little  pretences  and  prejudices  against 


260  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAI. 

piety  and  goodness  dashed  and  confounded?  Where  ig 
the  man  that  will  say,  he  tastes  as  much  solid  pleasure 
in  his  jollity  and  cups ;  that  his  lusts  and  vices  create  in 
him  as  great  a  serenity  of  mind,  afford  him  as  much 
comfort,  dispose  him  to  as  much  patience  and  content- 
edness  in  any  condition,  as  were  always  seen  to  be  the 
reward  and  blessing  of  the  innocence  and  goodness  of 
his  life?  When  did  ever  such  universal  esteem  and 
love  wait  upon  a  bad  man  to  his  grave,  as  we  see  hath 
accompanied  the  piety  and  virtue  of  one  who  was  am- 
bitious of  nothing  less  than  the  glory  of  men;  while  yet 
all  mouths  are  opened  in  his  praise,  every  man  speaks 
good  of  him,  and  persons  of  all  sects  and  persuasions 
amongst  us,  lament  his  loss,  and  bedew  his  hearse  with 
tears?  O  how  peaceful  and  resigned  do  we  see  the 
death  of  the  righteous!  and  how  unlike  must  ours  be 
to  it,  if  we  will  not  live  their  life!  What  an  uniform- 
ity is  there  in  the  virtue  and  innocence  of  that  life  that 
springs  from  true  goodness,  and  the  love  of  God?  And 
O  how  void  must  we  be  of  it,  how  palpable  our  hy- 
pocrisy, if  our  actions  contradict  one  the  other;  if  we 
bless  God,  and  yet  curse  and  do  evil  to  our  neighbour; 
if  we  confess  and  beg  pardon  for  our  sins,  and  yet 
breathe  and  meditate  revenge  against  others;  and  if  we 
have  not  a  respect  to  all  his  commandments!  If  we 
must  needs  look  upon  the  saints  and  holy  men  of  God, 
in  old  time,  as  if  they  had  been  creatures  of  another 
nature,  and  consider  their  example  as  disproportioned 
to  our  condition;  yet  here  we  have  seen  one  conversing 
amongst  us,  like  unto  ourselves,  subject  to  the  same 
passions,  temptations,  and  infirmities,  and  yet  conquer- 
ing all  these,  through  Christ  that  strengthened  him:  and 
why  should  we  turn  off  all  serious  thoughts  to  old  age, 
as  if  we  were  then  only  fit  for  God,  when  we  were  fit 
for  nothing  else!  May  not  tlie  piety  and  innocence  of 
his  youth,  shame  us  into  a  better  mind,  and  more 
Christian  lives?  For  honourable  age  is  not  that  which 
standeth  in  length  of  time,  nor  that  is  measured  by 
length  of  years.  But  wir^dom  is  the  gray  hair  unto 
men,  and  an  unspotted  life  is  old  age.  Thus  the  right- 
eous that  is  dead,  shall  condemn  the  ungodly  which  are 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOTTGAL.  261 

living:  and  youth  that  is  soon  perfected,  the  many  years 
and  old  age  of  the  unrighteous. 

And  O  what  shall  we  say  of  that  divine  Provi- 
dence, which  has  taken  this  light  from  among  us?  The 
ways  of  the  Lord  are  wonderful,  and  liis  judgments  are 
made  a  great  deep.  One  who  was  so  great  an  exam- 
ple of  piety,  an  ornament  to  his  country  and  the 
church,  is  quickly  removed  from  us  in  his  youth;  and 
many  who  are  a  reproach  to  religion,  the  scandal  of 
the  world,  and  the  shame  of  human  nature,  are  left  to 
old  age;  whether  to  fill  up  the  measure  of  their  sins,  or 
to  lead  them  to  repentance,  God  knows.  He  whom 
God  had  blessed  with  so  much  light  to  instruct  us,  and 
virtue  and  zeal  to  direct  us;  who  was  so  helpful  to  en- 
lighten us  by  his  sermons  and  discourses,  and  to  edify 
us  by  his  example,  is  suddenly  snatched  away  from  us. 
O  that  we  may  hear  the  rod,  and  him  who  hath  ap- 
pointed it!  When  we  make  no  use  of  God's  talents, 
(such  are  the  instructions,  and  counsel,  and  example  of 
good  men,)  he  takes  them  from  us.  Alas!  what  an  ill 
account  can  we  render  of  this?  Could  we  almost  im- 
agine sermons  more  serious,  affectionate,  and  heavenly; 
and  yet  wherein  have  we  been  prevailed  with  to  better 
our  lives,  to  forego  one  vice  we  were  otherwise  inclined 
to,  or  to  do  that  good  we  were  averse  to?  All  the  use 
we  make  of  his  example  is,  to  seem  to  approve  and 
commend  it;  but  wherein  do  we  imitate  it?  Do  we 
think  that  other  helps  would  do  better,  tlmt  other  means 
and  circumstances  would  have  more  influence  on  our 
lives?  Alas!  my  brethren,  they  that  will  not  hear  Mo- 
ses and  the  prophets,  neither  would  they  be  persuaded 
though  one  should  rise  from  the  dead.  But  we  are 
usuafly  most  sensible  of  the  worth  of  worldly  blessings; 
and  most  thankful  for  them,  when  God  takes  them 
fi-om  us:  and  O  that  our  appetite  may  be  thus  at  least 
quickened  for  spiritual  blessings!  O  that  our  present 
loss  may  have  this  influence  upon  us,  that  we  may  be 
truly  sensible  of  God's  goodness  in  bestowing  this  bles- 
sing so  long  upon  us;  that  we  may  adore  his  providence 
in  depriving  us  of  it;  and  that  the  impressions  he  hath 
left  on  our  minds  of  his  life  and  spirit,  and  the  seed  of. 


2(52  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAL. 

the  gospel  he  hath  sown  in  our  hearts,  may,  by  God's 
grace,  yet  bring  forth  fruit  in  us.  Finally,  my  breth- 
ren, whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are 
honest,  whatsoever  things  are  just,  &c.  Those  things 
which  ye  have  both  learned  and  received,  and  heard 
and  seen  in  him,  do;  and  the  God  of  peace  shall  be 
with  you. 

And  you,  my  friends,  who  were  his  more  peculiar 
care,  his  children,  of  whom  he  travailed  in  birth  till 
Christ  should  be  formed  in  you,  whom  he  was  so  solic- 
itous to  have  fitted  for  the  service  of  Jesus,  and  the  care 
of  souls;  alas!  who  can  blame  your  tears,  or  withhold 
your  grief?  My  father,  my  father,  the  chariot  of  Isra- 
el, and  the  horsemen  thereof.  It  is  not  possible  forme 
to  express  the  blessing  you  had  in  him:  I  know  your 
own  hearts  are  sensible  of  it,  beyond  all  I  can  say.  O 
what  a  useful  guide  and  director  was  "he!  How  dear 
w^ere  you  unto  him!  How  unaffectedly  humble  and 
ingenuous  in  his  conversation!  How  wise  and  pious 
were  his  instructions  and  advices!  How  much  were  his 
thoughts  taken  up  about  you,  making  them  all  sene  for 
his  great  design  of  fitting  you  for  the  holy  function !  And 
how  great  and  unspeakable  is  your  loss!  O  let  us 
adore,  and  submit  to  the  divine  providence!  Search 
and  try  your  hearts,  and  consider  your  ways,  and  reck- 
on what  finiit  you  have  brought  forth  worthy  of  such 
a  blessing;  and  whether  you  have  not  deserved  the  re- 
moval of  that  light,  while  you  have  been  so  little  care- 
ful to  be  enlightened  by  his  instructions,  or  warmed  by 
his  piety  and  zeal.  God  withdraws  from  us  such  use- 
ful blessings,  to  stir  us  up  to  shake  off  our  sloth,  and  a 
more  ardent  care  and  endeavour  for  the  enlightening  of 
our  minds,  and  the  purifying  of  our  hearts,  for  which 
his  life  and  spirit  would  have  been  so  useful  to  us.  If 
you  would  let  the  world  see  what  esteem  you  had  for 
him,  if  you  would  not  be  guilty  of  the  abuse  and  mis- 
improvement  of  one  of  the  greatest  blessings  you  ever 
had,  remember  his  instructions,  follow  his  advices,  and 
study  to  be  what  of  all  the  world  he  was  most  desir- 
ous you  should  be:  make  it  appear,  that  his  labour  is 
jsot  in  vain.     You  have  known  his  doctrine,  manner  of 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAL,.  263 

life,  purpose,  faith,  long-sufferiug,  charity,  and  patience. 
You  may  remember  how  he  behaved  himself  among 
you;  what,  and  how  he  instructed  you.  You  know 
how  desirous  he  was,  both  to  have  you  good  men,  and 
well  fitted  for  the  holy  ministry.  Consider  how,  above 
all  things,  he  directed  you  to  the  pmifying  of  your 
hearts,  and  the  exercises  of  true  repentance.  Think 
what  gravity  he  required  in  your  behaviour,  what  mod- 
esty and  humility  hi  your  words  and  conversation,  an- 
swerable te  yeur  designing  such  employment;  what 
abstraction  from  unsuitable  business  or  company.  Call 
to  mind  the  care  he  had  of  directing  your  studies  aright; 
how  he  diverted  you  from  such  learning  as  was  not  apt 
to  give  you  a  sense  of  piety  and  religion;  took  you  off 
from  an  itching  curiosity  about  questions  and  strifes  of 
words,  which  minister  to  vanity  and  contention;  per- 
suaded you  to  cleanness  of  heart,  truly  pious  designs, 
and  frequent  devotion,  as  the  best  dispositions  and  helps 
for  knowledge:  and  directed  you  to  such  books  and 
studies,  as  might  serve  to  give  you  a  right  and  deep 
sense  of  Christianity,  and  of  the  importance  and  duties 
of  the  holy  function.  Remember  how  much  he  be- 
wailed the  unseemly  haste,  and  unfit  methods  and  arts 
which  some  used,  to  thi-ust  themselves  into  the  holy 
ministry;  and  admired  the  difl^erent  conduct  of  the  holy 
men  in  old  times,  who,  sensible  of  its  great  weight, 
and  apprehensive  of  their  own  insufficiency,  were  al- 
\  most  always  forced  to  it  by  the  people,  and  the  govern- 
ors of  the  church.  Consider,  I  beseech  you,  of  what 
importance  he  thought  it,  both  for  your  own  souls,  and 
those  which  might  be  your  charge,  that  you  should  use 
all  prudent  means  sincerely  to  examine  yourselves  be- 
fore-hand, of  your  fitness  both  in  heart  and  spirit  for 
that  employment,  and  the  purity  of  your  intentions, 
designmg  truly  the  service  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the 
good  of  men's  souls,  and  not  the  sordid  ends  of  vanity, 
worldly  mindedness,  or  ambition.  And  O  that  these 
things  may  sink  into  your  hearts!  and  that  you  may 
continue  in  the  things  we  learned  of  him,  and  have 
been  assured  of;  knowing  of  whom  you  have  learned- 
them! 


264  A  SERMON  AT  THE   FUNERAL 

And  you,  whom  Providence  bath  mtrusted  with  thd 
care  and  education  of  the  youth,  pardon  me  also  to  call 
to  mind  the  example  of  our  dear  friend,  while  he  rrsGde 
one  of  your  society.  You  know  you  have  charge  of  the 
hopes  of  the  next  generation ;  and  that  the  welfare  both 
of  the  church  and  state,  and  their  own  good  and  happi- 
ness, doth  very  much  depend  upon  the  right  forming  of 
their  minds  and  tempers  in  their  younger  years;  and  that 
as  the  making  this  your  great  design  in  that  employment, 
doth  most  tend  to  promote  it,  so  you  can  never  more 
serve  your  own  interests  than  in  it.  All  callings  have 
their  several  temptations;  and  divisions,  or  sloth,  or  intei*"* 
est,  or  ignorance,  may  be  the  bane  of  this.  The  ill  man- 
agement of  it  has  a  more  universally  bad  influence  on 
the  world,  than  that  of  most  other  employments,  as  the 
happy  fruits  of  the  faithful  discharge  of  it  doth  as  far 
transcend  many  others.  We  are  all  made  for  eternity; 
and  we  cannot  go  about  any  thing  aright,  if  our  eye  be 
not  fixed  upon  its  end,  and  if  all  subordinate  ends  have 
not  a  respect  to  the  great  end  of  our  being.  The  holy 
calling  has  this  for  its  immediate  end  and  design;  and^ 
next  to  it,  yours  has  the  nearest  relation  to  it.  We  are 
set  apart  to  declare  the  light  which  Jesus  Christ  has  re- 
vealed from  heaven,  by  which  he  brought  life  and  im- 
mortality to  light  through  the  Gospel;  and  you,  to  clear 
up  the  remains  of  the  light  of  nature  that  is  within  us; 
and  he  that  dwells  in  light  inaccessible,  is  the  fountain 
and  author  of  both.  We  ought  to  be  careful,  that  men 
be  not  misled  by  false  lights,  nor  mistake  darkness  for 
light,  and  to  persuade  them  to  live  by  the  light  of  Jesus 
Christ;  and  you  are  to  beware,  that  we  do  not  take  the 
prejudices  of  childhood,  custom,  and  education,  our 
own  or  other  men's  foolish  fancies,  for  clear  notions 
and  lights  of  our  understanding.  As  the  bad  use  of  our 
reason,  and  the  confusion  of  the  light  of  nature,  has 
made  men  pervert  or  disbelieve  the  light  of  Jesus 
Christ;  so  the  sincere  and  right  use  of  it  doth  strangely 
dispose  us  to  receive  that  light,  to  admire  and  love  it, 
and  to  lead  our  lives  accordingly.  True  philosophy 
leads  us  to  acknowledge  and  adore  the  author  of  our  be- 
ing; to  admire  his  infinite  perfections,  from  the  vastness^ 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAL.  265 

order,  and  usefulness  of  his  works;  to  be  sensible  of  his 
absolute  disposal  of  all  things,  and  our  entire  dependence 
upon  him  for  life,  thought,  and  motion.  It  shows  us 
the  spiritual  nature  of  our  immortal  souls,  and  the  mean- 
ness and  vanity  of  sensual  pleasures.  It  discovers  to  us 
the  shortness  of  our  reason,  and  the  little  ground  we  have 
for  vanity,  either  for  our  knowledge,  who  know  so  few 
and  so  little  of  his  worlcs,  or  for  what  we  are  or  can  do, 
who  owe  all  to  him,  and  bear  so  mean  a  proportion  to  the 
universe  of  bodies  and  spirits.  It  lets  us  see,  that  our 
only  happiness  were  to  have  our  wills  united  to  his;  and 
shows  us,  that  we  should  love  him  above  all,  and  have 
an  universal  love  for  all  men;  and  that  all  our  felicity 
consists  in  studying  thus  heartily  the  common  good  of 
the  world.  It  gives  occasion  to  make  us  sensible  of  the 
strange  corruption  of  our  hearts,  and  how  far  we  are 
from  being  what  we  should  be,  and  how  unable  we  are 
to  give  ourselves  those  dispositions  of  love,  and  fear, 
and  reverence,  that  we  owe  our  Maker.  And  thus  it 
leads  us  to  the  Redeemer  of  mankind,  and  makes  appear 
how  much  need  we  have  of  his  grace  and  tmth.  I 
doubt  not  but  these,  and  such-like  considerations,  do 
engage  you  to  make  this  your  great  view  and  design, 
to  dispose  the  youth,  both  by  your  instructions  and  ex- 
ample, to  a  right  sense  of  religion,  and  suitable  appre- 
hensions of  the  Maker  of  the  world,  and  the  Re- 
deemer of  mankind;  without  which  view,  philosophy 
is  altogether  vain  and  impertinent.  And  you  yourselves 
know  how  exemplary  your  friend  was  in  making  it 
usefvd  for  this  end.  His  pious  and  Christian  Ethics, 
his  peaceable  and  devout  life,  his  private  instruction 
and  training  up  of  the  youth,  in  order  to  this  design, 
will  be  lasting  remembrances  of  it  to  many  ages. 

And  now,  my  brethren,  what  shall  we  say,  or  whither 
shall  we  turn  our  thoughts?  Alas!  our  loss  is  great  and 
unspeakable.  How  much  do  we  stand  in  need  of  such 
lights  and  examples!  Alas!  how  weighty  isiour  employ- 
ment! What  prudence  and  piety  does  it  call  for!  How 
dangerous  is  the  neglect,  or  ill  management  of  it !  What 
need  have  we  of  such  a  monitor  to  shake  off  our  sloth, 
end  awe,  and  instruct  us  by  his  example !  '<  Parishes  ar« 
23 


266  A  SERMON  AT  THE  FUNERAL 

holy  ships,"  as  one  says,  "whose  curates  are  the  pilots, 
and  eternity  the  port  they  must  guide  them  to.  If  it  need 
so  much  art  and  so  long  experience  to  sail  upon  the  seas, 
what  knowledge  and  prudence  does  it  call  for,  to  pass 
over  happily  the  sea  of  this  world,  where  tempests 
never  cease?  Alas!  who  can  think,  without  sensible 
grief  and  bitter  tears,  that  the  helm  of  these  vessels, 
w4iich  contain  such  precious  wares  as  cost  no  less  than 
the  blood  of  God,  should  be  committed,  ordinarily,  to 
men  of  so  little  experience ;  that  they  are  not  only  igno- 
rant of  the  tempests,  shelves,  and  banks  of  tliis  terrible 
sea,  but  even  have  not  the  strength  and  industry  to 
guide  their  own  little  vessel  back  to  the  road?  And 
those  inestimable  riches  are  frequently  intrusted  to 
those  whom  they  wall  not  trust  with  a  purse  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  pieces.  But,  even  when  the  pilots  are  able,  who 
would  not  at  last  lose  their  courage  to  see  themselves 
sailmg  amidst  so  many  hazards,  and  wdth  so  little  suc- 
cess? How  many  stupid  ones  fall  out  of  the  vessel! 
how  many  imprudent  ones  get  out  to  sail  apart  in  shal- 
lops! how  many  desperate  ones  throw  themselves  over, 
and  abandon  themselves  to  the  fury  of  the  waves? 
What  disquiets,  what  griefs,  and  what  trouble  for  the 
poor  pilot?  He  must  run  on  all  sides,  to  reach  out  his 
hand  to  those  that  fall.  He  must  exhaust  his  lungs,  in 
trying  to  call  those  wlio  flee  away.  He  must  even  fre- 
quently throw  himself  into  the  sea,  to  recover  those 
whom  the  waves  swallow  up.  If  he  watch  not,  the  fall 
of  the  first  will  be  imputed  to  him.  If  he  be  silent,  he 
will  answer  for  the  flight  of  the  second.  If  he  fear  la- 
bour and  travail,  he  will  be  accused  of  the  other's  des- 
pair. If,  in  a  word,  he  want  vigilance,  strength,  and 
courage,  he  will  be  guilty  of  as  many  bloodsheds  as  he 
lets  souls  perish."  This  is  a  laint  image  of  our  condi- 
tion. How  may  these  thoughts  fill  us  with  astonish- 
ment and  fear?  What  a  risk  do  we  run,  while  we  are 
engaged  in  such  a  dangerous  employment?  What  piety 
and  prudence,  vigilance  and  courage,  does  it  call  for? 
How  strangely  does  our  sloth  and  negligence  infect  one 
another,  and  lull  us  into  carelessness,  till  tixe  wave? 
Bwallow  us  up?     What  need  have  we  of  some  to  call 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAL.  267 

upon  us,  to  mind  us  of  our  danger,  to  make  us  ashamed 
of  our  i*  oth,  and  to  stir  us  up  by  their  example?  And  what 
a  blessing  was  our  friend  to  us  in  this  respect?  how  did 
he  inspire  life  and  spirit  in  all  good  designs  amongst  us, 
and  stir  us  up  to  our  duty,  by  his  public  and  private  care, 
as  far  as  his  influences  could  reach,  and  by  his  exam- 
ple? How  well  did  he  answer  the  character  of  a  good 
man,  and  a  good  clergyman?  His  innocency  was  eminent 
and  observable  from  his  childhood,  so  that  he  had  a  good 
report  from  them  that  were  without.  He  had  been 
trained  up  from  a  child  in  the  Holy  Scriptures;  and  such 
instructions  as  might  inspire  him  with  the  right  knowl- 
edge of  them,  and  a  deep  sense  of  religion;  and  which 
might  make  him  wise  unto  salvation.  As  he  had  been 
devoted  to  the  holy  calling  from  his  infancy,  so  he  was 
called  to  it  by  the  authority  and  hearty  approbation  of 
those  who  are  empowered  by  God,  having  the  inward 
testimony  of  a  good  conscience,  and  of  the  purity  of 
his  intentions;  far  from  any  design  of  vain-glory  or  inte- 
rest. His  mind  was  stored  with  all  sorts  of  know^ledge, 
\v»ithout  vanity  or  contention:  his  piety  was  eminent 
and  singular,  always  accompanied  with  an  unaffected 
humility:  his  spirit  and  disposition  were  ever  peaceable: 
his  love  to  God,  and  men's  souls,  made  him  study  the 
divine  art  of  becoming  all  things  to  all  men,  that  he  might 
save  some.  None  was  ever  more  mortified  to  covet- 
ousness  or  filthy  lucre.  His  charity  in  almsgivings  were 
exemplary,  in  all  things  showing  himself  a  pattern  of 
good  works.  In  his  doctrine,  he  showed  uncorrupted- 
ness,  gravity,  and  sincerity,  sound  words  that  could  not 
be  condemned.  His  discourse  was  always  modest,  and 
his  conversation  useful.  He  watched  all  occasions  of 
doing  good  to  men's  souls,  and  would  not  let  them  slip 
Never  man  was  more  apt  to  teach,  being  gentle  to  all 
men.  Those  that  opposed  themselves  to  the  truth,  or 
were  overtaken  in  a  fault,  he  endeavoured  to  instruct  and 
restore  in  the  spirit  of  meekness,  avoiding  foolish  ques- 
tions, and  strifes  of  w^ords.  And,  by  walking  in  all 
good  conscience  before  God  and  man,  he  hath,  among 
other  things,  given  a  singular  instance  of  gaining  the  love 
^nd  esteem  of  all,  and  of  preserving  his  person  and  his 


268  A  SERMON-  AT  THE  FtTNERAt 

office  from  that  contempt  which  they  say  is  so  generally 
thrown  upon  our  order:  so  that  even  scarce  any  man  des- 
pised his  youth.  How  may  we  behold  in  his  life,  as  in 
a  glass,  the  virtues  and  qualities  of  a  true  minister  of 
Jesus  Christ?  What  a  living  instruction  was  it  to  us, 
whereby  we  might  observe  our  own  defects,and  be  stirred 
up  to  our  duty?  Who  can  fathom  the  mysteries  of  Prov- 
idence, or  tell  what  judgments  may  threaten  the  church 
by  the  removal  of  such  a  burning  and  shining  light?  The 
righteous  man  perisheth,  and  no  man  layeth  it  to  heart; 
merciful  men  are  taken  away,  none  considering  that  it 
is  from  the  evil  to  come.  O  that  his  life  and  example 
may  be  yet  active  among  us;  that  we  may  be  actuated 
by  the  same  spirit,  not  to  mind  our  own  things,  but  the 
things  of  Jesus  Christ;  that  we  may  have  pity  on  our- 
selves and  this  miserable  church;  that  the  sense  of  our 
lamentable  distractions,  and  the  universal  corruption  of 
men's  lives,  may  sink  deep  into  our  hearts!  O  that 
the  love  of  Jesus,  and  the  care  of  souls,  may  inspire  our 
hearts,  and  direct  our  studies,  and  enliven  our  sermons, 
and  increase  our  vigilance,  and  guide  om*  lives!  Save 
us,  Lord,  or  else  we  perish! 

And  now,  my  friends,  what  words  or  grief  can  ex- 
press our  loss?  you  whom  nature  or  choice  had  more 
peculiarly  endeared  to  him;  5'ou  who  were  honoured 
with  his  friendship,  and  blessed  with  his  conversation; 
who  were  guided  by  his  counsel,  and  comforted  by  his 
presence;  who  was  the  relish  of  your  joys,  and  the  ease 
of  your  griefs:  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother;  very 
pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me.  Thy  love  unto  me 
was  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of  women.  But,  alas! 
why  do  we  mourn  our  private  loss,  when  the  loss  is  so 
public  and  universal,and  every  man  concerned  in  it;  while 
it  is  not  the  removal  of  our  candle  only,  but  of  a  light 
of  the  world,  and  a  public  good?  Every  man  who  knew 
him,  or  heard  of  him,  claims  a  share  in  our  grief,  and 
bewail  their  particular  loss  in  him.  The  affectionate 
father  remembers  a  most  dutiful  and  comfortable  son; 
relations  cry  out  for  the  loss  of  their  dearest  and  most 
useful  kinsman;  friends  bewail  their  being  torn  from  a 
friend  mdeed;  ihe  learned  bemoan  the  want  of  a  great 


or    MK.    HENRY    gCOITGAI-.  209 

owner  and  promoter  of  true  knowledge;  the  youth  la- 
ment their  being  deprived  of  a  most  pious,  wise,  affec- 
tionate, and  useful  guide;  the  poor  groan  for  the  loss 
of  a  father;  the  devout  find  the  want  of  a  director  and 
pattern;  the  church  feels  herself  deprived  of  one  of  her 
purest  lights:  the  clergy  are  sensible  he  was  to  them  an 
ensample  and  an  honour;  the  people  acknowledge  they 
had  a  blessing  of  him  in  his  life  and  doctrine;  the  whole 
nation  may  feel  the  want  of  a  great  promoter  of  true  lo)  - 
alty,  and  all  Christian  virtues  and  graces,  by  his  exam- 
ple and  instractions,  and  are  sersible  what  an  honour 
he  was  to  them:  yea,  the  several  sects  among  us  lament 
his  loss,  and  seem  to  confess,  that  a  few  like  him  would 
soon  heal  our  schisms;  and  that  his  pious  life,  and  meek 
instructions,  if  any  thing,  would  soon  have  recovered 
them  from  their  errors.  O  how  is  our  loss  swallowed 
up  in  the  public!  My  father,  my  father,  the  chariots 
of  Israel,  and  the  horsemen  thereof. 

But  whither  would  our  passions  drive  us?  Shall  we 
forget  the  governour  of  the  'vorld,  and  who  is  the  Lord 
of  life  and  death?  We  -d'rn  not  look  on  his  removal 
from  us  as  a  fatal  necessi^/,  or  a  blind  stroke  of  chance 
and  fortune;  as  the  sport  of  the  humours  and  parts  that 
composed  his  body.  Nc,  no.  The  author  of  the  uni- 
verse employs  still  that  power,  aud  wisdom,  and  good- 
ness, in  ruling  the  world,  that  he  did  in  making  it.  In 
him  we  live  and  move,  and  have  our  being.  His  hand 
is  in  every  thing  that  befalls  us;  all  that  strikes  our  sen- 
ses, which  we  see,  or  hear,  or  know,  or  feel  within  our- 
selves, and  impute  to  other  instruments,  are  really  the 
effects  of  his  power,  and  are  ordered  by  him  for  great 
and  wise  ends.  A  hair  of  our  head  does  not  fall  to  the 
ground  without  his  leave.  This  that  has  now  befallen 
us,  is  an  holy  indispensable  effect  of  a  decree  of  the 
providence  of  God,  to  be  executed  in  its  due  time.  He 
had  not  sent  him  into  this  world  for  a  lasting  temporal 
comfort  unto  us,  but  for  the  great  and  wise  ends  of  his 
own  glory,  and  of  the  world  that  is  to  come.  Let  us 
not  look  upon  this  accident  in  itself,  but  in  God,  and  in 
his  will.  Let  us,  in  humble  silence,  adore  the  unsearch- 
able depth  of  his  secrets;  acknowledge  the  holiness  of 
.      _  22^  : '. 


270  A   SERMON  AT  THE    FUNERAIi 

his  decrees;  bless  the  conduct  of  his  providence,  and, 
(according  to  that  singular  example  which  we  have  seen 
on  this  occasion  in  one  of  the  greatest  fatherly  affections 
heightened  by  all  kinds 'of  endearments,)  uniting  our 
wills  to  the  will  of  God,  and  sacrificing  our  natural 
passions  unto  it,  let  us  walk  with  him,  in  him,  and 
for  him,  and  what  he  hath  willed  in  us,  and  for  us,  to 
all  eternity. 

And  truly,  if  we  look  upon  our  dear  friend,  and  con- 
sider what  he  hath  been  and  what  he  now  is,  and  shall 
be  to  all  eternity,  it  will  make  us  yet  the  more  sensible 
how  much  we  ought  to  resign  ourselves  to,  and  glorify 
the  will  of  our  heavenly  Father  in  his  wise  disposal  of 
,  him.  The  life  of  a  Christian  is  a  continual  sacrifice  to 
God;  crucifying  our  earthly  affections,  mortifying  our 
sinful  passions,  and  subduing  our  w^ills  to  his;  and  this 
sacrifice  is  finished  and  perfected  by  death:  and  the 
lives  of  men,  and  the  accidents  that  befall  them,  ought  to 
affect  our  spirits,  according  as  they  break  off  or  advance 
in  sacrificing  their  hearts  and  lives  to  God.  How  com- 
fortable has  his  life  been  to  us,  and  to  all  good  men,  in 
this  respect.  From  the  time  he  was  devoted  and  given 
unto  Jesus  Christ  in  his  baptism,  how  has  he  been  fit- 
ted by  the  grace  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  offer  up  his  life 
a  continual  sacrifice  to  God;  restraining,  constantly,  the 
con-uption  of  his  nature  from  breaking  out  into  any 
great  impurity  or  crime,  subduing  every  day  his  pas- 
sions, purifying  his  afiections,  studying  to  do  every  thing 
in  and  for  God,  and  endeavouring  a  continual  resigna- 
tion of  his  w^ill  to  him?  And  in  this  we  must  not  re- 
gret his  few  years,  and  the  shortness  of  his  days;  for 
with  God  one  day  is  as  a  thousand  years,  and  a  thou- 
sand years  as  one  day.  Length  of  life  is  not  to  be  mea- 
sured by  many  revolutions  of  the  heavens,  but  by  the 
progress  we  have  made  in  the  great  design  for  which 
we  are  sent  into  the  world:  and  in  this  respect  he,  be- 
ing sanctified  in  a  little  time,  hath  fulfilled  a  long  time; 
so  that  he  hath  truly  lived  much  in  a  few  years,  and 
died  an  old  man  in  eight  and  twenty.  He  hath  now 
finished  the  work  that  God  hath  given  him  to  do:  he 
hath  accomplished  the  thing  for  which  he  was  sent  iu- 


OF  MR.  HENRY  SCOUGAL.  271 

to  the  world:  by  death  he  hath  now  perfected  the  sac- 
rifice of  himself,  and  the  will  of  God  is  fulfilled  in  him. 
Whatever  horror  there  may  be  in  death  to  the  natural 
man,  however  terrible  it  is  to  the  wicked  and  impeni- 
tent, yet  to  the  godly,  to  all  who  consider  it  in  Jesus 
Christ,  it  is  full  of  joy  and  comfort.  O  death,  where 
is  thy  sting?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?  The 
sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law. 
But  thanks  be  to  God,  who  hath  given  us  the  victory 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  He  hath  made  the  king 
of  terrors  to  become  the  object  of  the  most  ardent  de- 
sires and  wishes  of  his  own ;  for,  if  to  us  to  live  be 
Christ,  sure. 

To  die  is  gain.  I  will  not  now  launch  out  into  this 
boundless  ocean,  to  speak  of  the  unspeakable  happiness 
of  the  other  world,  and  of  the  great  advantages  of  the 
death  of  those  whose  life  is  Christ's.  But  O  how  may 
this,  after  the  example  of  the  ancient  Christians,  fill  us 
with  joy  and  comfort,  in  the  pious  and  well-grounded 
hopes  of  the  happiness  of  our  dear  friend!  Well  may 
we  think  we  hear  him  say.  Why  do  you  mourn  for  me? 
Weep  not  for  me,  but  weep  for  yourselves;  for  to  me  to 
die  is  gain.  We  live  still  in  a  world  of  sin  and  misery, 
of  darkness  and  folly:  we  see  nothing  here  but  matter  of 
tears  and  grief;  we  are  among  a  crowd  of  people  who 
are  marching  on  to  eternal  misery,  who  know  not  but 
the  next  step  may  bring  them  to  their  journey's  end; 
and  yet  never  think  of  any  thing,  but  fillmg  their  bellies, 
satisfying  their  lusts,  or  worrying  one  another  by  the 
way.  We  have  great  difficulty  to  find  the  strait  path 
to  eternal  life;  and  when  we  know  it,  and  are  entered 
into  it,  the  seeming  pleasure  of  the  by-paths,  the  tempt- 
ations and  example  of  the  throng  about  us,  a  rooted 
corruption  within  us,  and  a  subtle  enemy  that  watches 
us,  are  ready  at  every  step  to  betray  us,  and  to  turn  us 
aside  into  the  paths  that  lead  to  destraction:  and  what 
a  blessing  is  it  to  be  free  of  all  these? 

How  happy  is  our  friend,  who  enjoys,  now,  an  ab- 
solute freedom  from  all  the  pains,  and  griefs,  and  troubles 
of  this  miserable  world;  who  is  out  of  the  reach  of 
all  those  temptations  and  snares;  whose  soul  is  unclogged 


272  A  SERMON-  AT  THE  FriJCERAL,  kc. 

from  an  earthly  body,  freed  from  its  guilt,  and  cleansed 
from  its  corruptions  by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  and  put  be- 
yond the  possibility  of  ever  sinning  or  offending  against  its 
Maker,  which  now  only  begins  to  live,  (the  being  born 
into  this  world  being  rather  a  death,  and  dying  the  be- 
ginning to  live  for  ever;)  being  now  all  light,  and  life, 
and  love,  and  motion,  seeing  and  enjoying  God;  havin<' 
its  will  wholly  swallowed  up  in  his;  being,  as  it  were, 
lost  in  him,  and  in  the  rapturous  bliss  of  his  love;  joining 
in  pure  and  holy  friendship  with  angels  and  archangels, 
and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  in  adoring  and 
admiring  our  Maker  and  Redeemer,  being  enlarged  in 
holy  charity  and  ardent  prayers  for  us  poor  mortals  here 
below,  and  rejoicing  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth; 
waiting  for  the  redemption  of  the  body,  when  this  mor- 
tal shall  put  on  immortality,  and  what  is  here  sown  in 
corruption  and  a  natural  body,  shall  be  raised  in  incor- 
ruption  and  spiritual;  and  death  shall  be  swallowed  up  in 
victory,  when  they  shall  happily  be  reunited,  and  live  in 
joy  and  bliss  to  all  eternity?  Blessed  are  the  dead  that 
die  in  the  Lord;  they  rest  from  their  labours,  and  their 
works  do  follow  them.  They  that  be  wise  shall  shine 
as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament:  and  they  that  turn 
many  to  righteousness,  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever. 
Who  can  speak  aright  of  that  happiness  which  eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  con- 
ceived? O  let  us  not  bewail  the  absence  of  our  friend 
with  fmitless  sighs  or  tears ;  nor  sorrow  as  they  that  have 
no  hope:  but  let  us  always  endeavour,  after  his  exan)- 
ple,  so  to  live  to  Christ  in  this  world,  that  our  death 
may  be  the  same  gain  and  advantage  to  us;  that  with 
him,  and  all  the  blessed  spirits,  we  may  live  in  eternal 
friendship  and  love  with  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 
Holy  Ghost,  God  over  all  blessed  for  evermore.    Amen, 


